Our Team, Not Theirs
by Ghostunderasheet
Summary: What if the children of villains aren't as evil as they seem? Some of them want out. We're heroes. We're supposed to help them. And what if the 'real' heroes don't care about the difference? We can change that. And we created The Team. And it is our team. We can put whoever we want on it. Outside opinions be damned. We can actually save them. They deserve it. They're our team.
1. Racer's Family

**Okay, so... This? All this? It's a mostly written as stress relief, just for fun. I don't actually have much of a so called 'plan' for this fic like I usually do going in, so I'll probably contradict myself a few times somewhere along the way. I'm not convinced everything will turn out in chronological order, but the YJ events will be, with random flashback chapters thrown in there. Disclaimer? Psht. If you're looking for the guy who owns Young Justice you're on the wrong _website_, my friend.  
I'll put warnings up for each chapter as they come, but I'll give you the major ones right now: There will be SLASH. There will be SWEARING. There will be TORTURE. There will be CHILD ABUSE. There will be FLUFF. There will be CANON AU. There will be EXTRA MEMBERS of the Team (duh, read the summary). There will be BASHING. There will be OCs. There will be GENDERBENDING for the hell of it. There will be DIFFERENT RELATIONSHIPS from canon (NO SUPERMARTIAN!) There will be DADDY!BATS &amp; BATFAMILY. There will be NICE VILLIANS and some HATEWORTHY HEROES. There will probably be other things that I haven't thought up yet, but they'll be there.  
****If you still feel like reading what is likely to be utter crap, I'd be delighted to see you review and tell me either what utter crap it is, or how wrong I am about it's crappiness.**

* * *

**WARNINGS: (for this chapter) There's mentions of child abuse, and one or two minor hints of alcoholism. **I'm not saying everyone who drinks hits their children. I'm just saying that in this instance, this guy does. Ok?

* * *

-Kid Flash POV-

"So you're introducing me to your… enemy?" I clarified, mostly guessing and still confused.

"No," Robin corrected. "Well… sorta. He's the Joker's son but… he's not all that bad. When he's sane. Which he isn't really, but he's still not that bad. Just crazy."

I gave him a look that said 'You're not making any sense, and I'm pretty sure it's because you're crazy.'

"Look, you have to meet him before you can understand," Robin dismissed. "JJ is… well he's one of a kind as near as I can tell."

"Somehow that doesn't reassure me," I muttered unhappily. My shoulder wasn't helping my mood any. It hurt. Most everything else was already healed though thanks to my super speed so it was no biggie. I could run it off. _I always do_. "And this JJ guy… he's where exactly?"

Then there was a gun pointed at my face. "BANG! You're dead." The barrel of the gun moved, revealing a kid about Robin's age, hanging upside down, knees hooked over a disused walkway. "Or you would be, if I were someone else. But I'm not, so you're not. So congratulations! You're not dead. Neither am I. Neither is he," he gestured to Robin with the barrel of the gun and I tried very hard not to shy away from it. "We should start a club!"

"KF? JJ. JJ? KF. I thought you two should meet." He was smirking at me. _Robin you little troll_. "And JJ, we're not starting a club."

I took a moment and examined the new kid, who deflated slightly when Rob told him there wasn't going to be a 'Nobody's Dead Yet Club'. He was pale, really super pale but not as 'white' as his dad was. He had eery, naturally green hair and intensely bright green eyes in a floppy mop on top of his head just like his father. But the smile was wrong. JJ's smile was… dare I say it friendly and not in the least bit insane and/or creepy. If it weren't for the green hair I wouldn't have spared him a second glance. JJ hopped down.

"You know without proper training you could crack your head open," Robin pointed out.

"Yeah, so?" JJ asked, "Nobody'ld miss me."

I frowned. Nobody, not even the (probably crazy) Joker's son should feel like nobody would miss them. I remembered the feeling form before I became Kid Flash. It sucked big time. "We would miss you," I protested.

JJ blinked at me and shrugged. "Nah," he dismissed with the wave of a hand, walking away. "You met me 30 seconds ago. You'd feel all guilty an' such, but yah wouldn' really miss me. An' Dickie-Bird there probably be saved a whole lotta trouble in the future. From (you know) my next about of crazy." He turned around, "Chicken wizzies?" he offered, holding up a bag. "I don' know what they are, but you gotta try 'em!"

Now who was I to turn down free food? "Yes please!"

* * *

-Robin POV-

It was going well. I'd decided to introduce JJ to KF mostly because he needed more 'normal' people to hang out with. And by normal I mean people who aren't evil and/or psychotic villains and thugs. He was now up to three: Me, Batman and KF. It was a work in progress. JJ might never be normal, that opportunity was taken form him but he didn't have to turn out like his father. Batman thought I was wasting my time, but he didn't try to stop me either. And I knew better than to think he didn't know about me visiting JJ when I had the time.

Remember when I said it was going well? Yeah. I used the past tense on purpose. At some point JJ tapped Kid on the shoulder and Kid flinched. Hard. Next thing I know JJ's perched on Kid's chest, gun pointed between the eyes and face close enough to- well, they were really close, okay? I don't want to know the rest of that sentence.

"Why'd ya flinch?" JJ asked, looking as angry enough I might've thought someone had tried to take his chicken wizzies away without permission.

Kid was handling it surprisingly well. "I didn't flinch," he argued defensively, "I winced."

"Why'd ya wince?" JJ persisted, eyes narrowing.

"It hurt. I got hit there earlier," Kid explained carefully, moving his head to the side but not breaking eye contact with JJ. The gun followed his movement, remaining dead centre on his forehead. "No biggie. Super speed gives me super healing, so it'll go away soon."

JJ frowned. "How'd you get hurt?"

"I'm a superhero, you think I keep track of every bump and bruise I get along the way?" Kid protested.

"How'd you get hurt?" JJ insisted, pushing the gun into Kid's head harder.

"JJ, that's enough," I warned. "You don't want to shoot him."

"I won't, I just need his attention. He's paying attention. Now, who hurt you?" JJ asked, dismissing me. As much as I believed JJ wouldn't shoot Wally (he wasn't in his crazy mode after all) I still wasn't comfortable seeing him press a gun to my friend's head.

"Nobody- I just-"

"I thought you got it superhero-ing?" JJ pointed out, "Who hurt you?"

"Nobody," KF insisted.

"Don't lie to me," JJ raised his voice. "Tell me what happened."

"Nobody hurt me," KF placated the younger boy, "I was running and I tripped. I fell down. You can really hurt yourself going at full speed."

JJ frowned and thought that over for a moment. "When you're going at full speed… what happens when you get a bug in your eye?" he asked, gun still to KF's head. "Does it hurt?"

Kid gulped, confused and losing his composure now. "Well… yeah. But I've figured out how to mostly run with my eyes closed when I have to so-"

"That's stupid," JJ objected, finally backing away from Kid's face but leaving the gun, striking a thoughtful pose with his free hand. "You could get hurt trying something like that."

"He could get hurt by having a gun to his head too," I pointed out cautiously, "JJ, put away the gun."

JJ turned to look. "Oh!" he shouted, "That gun! Sorry 'bout that. Mah bad." JJ was still straddled on Kid's lap but it didn't seem so bad anymore. "Hey… wait a second - I didn' even have the safety off! You wimps. See?" And in the next second the barrel of the gun was against his temple and making a hollow clicking noise.

"Okay please stop that," Kid protested, hands halfway up to grab the gun and afraid something would happen to the safety if he tried.

"We'd rather not see you blow your brains out," I agreed as casually as I could manage. It was pretty good but JJ shot me a glance that said he saw through me.

"You guys act like I can't handle a gun," JJ whined before whirling, gun in hand. I heard the click of the safety come off and - BANG-BANG! BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG! "See?" JJ made a smiley face with two eyes and four bullet holes for a mouth against one of the crates. Kid was frozen in awe. I was frozen with worry. _JJ, why do you know how to do that?_ JJ stood up off of Kid's lap and shrugged, scratching the back of his head with his gun. "So we should all get goin' afore someone decides to see if there's a body here to scavenge. Nice meetin' you, Racer. Yeh should come 'n visit sometimes. Been fun. Later, Dickhead."

"See you later, JJ," I agreed.

"Yeah, it was nice meeting you, JJ. I'll see you again sometime," KF agreed. We watched as JJ walked away, hand waving over his shoulder, still holding his gun, now empty of bullets. "I see what you mean by 'one of a kind'," I started out, "JJ… obviously he's not quite right but… he's not all bad."

"You can't really call him a 'good kid'," I agreed, "but…"

"He's hella entertaining."

"Now that he is."

* * *

-Captain Cold POV-

It isn't often a Gothamite visits us out in Central City. I'm not so fool as to think that we're considered much more than haired help by the standards of outsiders. So when the mini-Joker shows up, breaking down our door and scarring the Trickster up a wall, it's considered an occasion. Mini-Joker glared at us.

I sighed. Nobody else was stepping up so I suppose it fell to me. "What do you want?"

"I want you guys to stop sucking," Mini-Joker accused. He seemed mad. Not crazy-mad but angry-mad. And yeah, that needed clarification. "Someone's hurt your Baby-Flash," he stated icily, "Someone other than you. I thought you had some sort of bro-code out here in Central, huh? Well don't you?!"

"There is no such thing as a bro-code when it comes to us villains, you of all people should know that, Mini-Joker," I argued blandly, smirking inwardly when he flinched at the name. "And if Baby-Flash were being hurt, it wouldn't be any of our business. It's our job to hurt him."

"And no one else's," he finished for me. I didn't say anything to disagree.

Out here in Central, the relationship between the Rogues and the Flash has always been complicated. We're enemies through and through, but that doesn't stop us from sharing the occasional beer. We were allowed to try and kill each other all we wanted so long as nobody actually succeeded. Naturally though, we would never admit any of this, especially to a genuine article Gothamite. Those people are crazy (quite literally). And it would not do to show any sort of weakness in front of one of them. Especially not a clown.

"Look, I'm not here to start anything. Just kidnap him for a few days while I sort this out. When you've got him, give him this," Mini-Joker instructed. He took off his backpack and tossed me a box. "You can look inside if you want, the other present is for the bird. I'll trust you guys and Racer to get it to him."

"You think you can just walk in here, tell us what to do, and walk out again?" I asked, half surprised and half angry.

"No. I think I can just walk in here, and then walk out again because you're afraid of what would happen if you tried to stop me. And I trust you to do what I say because it's in your best interest. None of you need those toys, they're not even your style. And you'll kidnap Racer (that's Baby-Flash to you) because you'd probably need to think up a heist anyway and on the off chance I might be right, well… most of you know what it's like to be hit by your dad. Baby-Flash is one of the good guys though. He's not like us. He's good. He deserves better." Mini-Joker zipped up his backpack, now devoid of box, and turned to leave. "He's one of the good guys. He deserves a good life to go with it."

* * *

-Barry Allen/The Flash POV-

Kid's distress beacon was blinking. I was gone before my boss could turn around. What I found when I got there wasn't a distressed Kid Flash. Some green haired kid sat cross legged on top of a box in the discarded warehouse the beacon had called me towards. He didn't look all that impressive except… "Aren't you… the Joker's son?" I asked him, uncertain - although he matched the Batman's description.

"My name's JJ," he stated irritably. "Shut up."

I blinked, confused before I remembered that Kid was in trouble. "Where's Kid Flash?!" I demanded hotly. "What have you done to him?!"

"Nothing," JJ stated blandly. "And I'm not here to threaten you either. I just stole his distress beacon so I could talk to you." He held it out.

Part of me wanted to ask how he'd gotten close enough to the Kid that he'd nicked the beacon without being noticed but I decided it was better not to ask. "So Kid's fine?" I confirmed.

"Well…" JJ trailed off before shrugging. "He's probably been kidnapped by now but otherwise yeah, he's fine."

"You're crazy-" I started before backtracking, "Never mind, we already knew that. What I don't know is what you want."

"To talk to you," JJ stated obviously. "I thought I already said that part." I would've been pissed if he didn't seem honestly confused about it. Probably part of having a few screws loose.

"And what do you want to talk to me about?" I persisted, taking a seat next to him.

"Racer got hurt," JJ said. "I want you to stop it."

_Seriously? That's what this is about? _"Look, JJ, Kid Flash is a hero. He's going to get hurt from time to time. That's what happens. You understand that right?"

"Then why'd he lie?" JJ asked. "He said he got hurt because he fell while running. That's not how you get those kinds of injuries. Even with his healing, you must've noticed. Racer's soar more often. Have you asked him why yet?"

I blinked. I mean… yeah, Kid had been wincing a lot more often recently, but I didn't think it was a big deal. Of course I'd asked anyway though, he was my partner after all. "When I asked him about it, he just said it was just bullies from school and that his parents had already talked to them about it. He said-"

"If he said 'I can handle it' then there's something that needs to be handled," JJ stated iritably. "Something's wrong. Someone's hurting him. And he won't talk about it. I'd guess his dad but having never met his family I don't know."

"And what makes you think that?" I asked, partially affronted and partially horrified at the thought. _My_ _Kid Flash? No. No way I wouldn't notice something like that_. "He didn't say anything did he?"

"Of course not," JJ snorted. "I could see it in his eyes, read it in his aura. There's a shadow on it. Of course I'd recognize it."

"So what you're saying is… Kid's being abused… and you know this because of his aura?" I tried not to sound incredulous but c'mon. I already knew JJ was crazy but this…

"Have you met his parents?" JJ asked me.

"No," I confessed, "We haven't told each other our secret identities yet." Kid Flash and I had only been partners for so long after all and he'd been the one to approach me.

"He knows yours though," JJ tilted his head to the side. "He must."

"Explain properly kid," I complained, "You're not making any sense."

"Racer can't be like you unless he knows how you got like you and did it too. You must have written it down somewhere. He read it and did it and now he's like he is, like you. So even though you might not have told him and he might not have told you he knows. You don't though… you should fix that. And talk to his parents." _Well that makes perfect gibberish_.

"Look, JJ, you seem to be trying to do… something…" What was his angle in all this anyway? Was he just starting trouble or was he trying to save Kid from… something that didn't (_couldn't_) exist? "But there's really nothing for you to worry about."

"Fine," JJ sighed. "Just… you're both good guys right? Tell him your secret identity. He'll tell you his. He's gotta. Then ask to meet his parents. It'll be obvious then." JJ hopped up off his box and started walking away. "Bye bye, sightless. When you stop being blind and talk to Racer, say hi, would ya? An' sorry 'bout the Rogues. Hopin' the goggles'll make up for it. Had ta have 'im kidnapped, jus' tah be sure…"

"Shouldn't I arrest you?" I asked, confused about the whole thing. And when exactly had JJ slipped into improper English?

JJ laughed. It sounded surprisingly friendly and not the least bit insane and/or creepy. "For what?"

* * *

That afternoon, I realized Kid Flash (Wally of all people - my own nephew) wasn't being bullied. His mom answered the door with a black eye. His father answered the door drunk and angry.

That night, Wally stayed at my house with me and Iris. His mom spent the night in the hospital, getting checked out just to be safe. His father spent the night in a holding cell pending federal charges. JJ called Iris's cell phone (apparently he'd stolen mine and looked through the contacts… that sneak! When did that happen?! - _And_ now he knew my secret identity too!) to apologize to Wally. Wally shrugged it off, admitted he should have gotten help sooner, thanked him for the goggles (which he still hadn't taken off and kept bragging about) and promised to bring more chicken wizzies next time he visited with Robin. I spent the night wondering what a chicken wizzie was, and how I was going to tell this story to Batman.


	2. Today is the Day!

**Okay, just to clarify: The flashbacks should all be happening in chronological order. Any exceptions will be noted at the start of the chapter. The Season 1 timeline will be chronological, but if I feel like skipping something I will. The scenes from the gap between Seasons 1 and 2 will be chronological **_**probably**_**. That being said, I will skip around between which part of the story I feel like writing. Not to mention chapter lengths will fluctuate dramatically. Some will be proper sized chapters and others not so much. Just giving everybody a heads up.**

* * *

-Roy POV-

"So… tomorrow's a big day for you, right?" TomCat asked, sprawled out on his side across a park bench, head propped up on his hand. "With the League and all…"

"Yeah, Ollie's finally going to have to admit that I'm a real hero," I agreed, still slightly tense as I leaned against a tree, just in case Tom Cat attached. He usually didn't but there was no predicting with him.

He huffed. "You've always been a real hero, Roy," he argued. "Tomorrow's just about acknowledging what we already know." He got up off his bench and leaned against my chest. I didn't move from where I was except to look at him. "You know… we could always celebrate early?" he purred suggestively.

"And you could always give up on trying to seduce me," I pointed out blandly, actively ignoring the heat of his body against mine. How could I even feel that through the Kevlar anyway?

"We both know _that's_ not going to happen." He grinned and nuzzled himself under my chin. I did not take notice of how soft his hair was or the way one of his ears framed my jawline.

"And we both know it's not going to _work_," I argued back, taking Tom Cat by the shoulders and pushing him away slightly.

"I think we both know it's starting to," Tom Cat teased happily. "I've gotten you to the point where you have to not look. I'll get you eventually you know."

"You keep telling yourself that."

"Whatever you say, Roy." TomCat nipped me on the jawline briefly before he pulled back, grinning madly. "Either way, congratulations on tomorrow. You really have earned it. Pass the message on to the others and all that," he called over his shoulder, patiently disappearing into the night. "See if you can find an excuse to piss off Ollie for me, kay? He's such a tool."

"Will do," I assured him, even knowing he was probably too far away to hear. "Tomorrow's the day."

* * *

-JJ POV-

"So we're headed over to the Hall of Justice tomorrow," Dickiebird said casually.

I jerked my head up from what I was working on - an auto-encrypting communications network that worked on micro-frequencies too small for most machines to detect - and started at him. "Why? You do something wrong? They're not going to kick you out are they? They can't do that!" Dickiebird was an awesome hero, he didn't deserve to go meet the boss. Usually that meant they would kill you, but since it was the JL they'd probably just excommunicate him or something.

"No, no nothing like that," Dickiebird assured me. "The other sidekicks-"

"_Hero assistants!_" I corrected automatically. It was bad for their confidence to call them sidekicks. I refused to buy into that system.

"Right, well all of us are headed over to the Hall of Justice to give us access to the HQ. We're one step closer to being members in our own right. It's a good thing!"

I hesitated. So they weren't offing Dickiebird? "So… it's like a promotion?" I confirmed. "Cool. Can I come?"

Dickiebird froze. "JJ… you know most people think that you're-"

"I'm not an idiot, Dickiebird dear. I know I can't go in the building. I meant go stand outside with all the groupies." He seemed unsure. "Please? I'll be in disguise. I promise not to try to talk to you or anything," I pleaded. "Don't think my pride will stop me from begging I haven't got any anyway."

"...You promise you'll keep your hair covered?" he asked. I nodded eagerly. "And you know that you can't try and talk to us while you're there, right?" I nodded. Honestly, I was insane, not an idiot. "I guess it's okay. I mean- I can't see why Batman would say no."

"YES!" I shouted, jumping up, nearly overturning my table by accident. "No!" The table righted itself, "Yes! Did you see those mad skills?!"

"Uh… JJ, we're on the phone," Dickiebird pointed out. "I can't see anything." I glanced around. There was a phone set to speaker on the table. Dickiebird was nowhere to be see. "So you are. Never mind then. I'll see you tomorrow! Thank you! Congratulations! Bye!"

I hung up. It was really quiet. When exactly had the conversation with Dickiebird started? And where had I gotten the parts I was working with? They were too high-quality for them to have come from a Radio Shack or something like that… _I hope I didn't hurt anyone. _These communicators were going to be for Dickiebird, Racer and Hoodling. So we could talk without being Batsit. I didn't want anything I gave them to have been forged in blood. They were good. They deserved better.

They deserved what the Justice League gave them. Recognition. Gratitude. Partnership. Trust. A home. They were the good guys. They really _did_ deserve it.

And if I wanted too see them tomorrow I'd better get going. My motorcycle wasn't as fast as the Batmobile and I had to get a disguise in order first. I was thinking a fake mustache. And eyebrows. After all, those were green too. And a hat would never quite cover the back of my head enough so I'd need a wig. I hate wigs. Those things are damn itchy, no matter what you do.

* * *

-Wally/Kid Flash POV-

"I _told_ you we'd be the last ones here!" I complained. _Wait a second_… I leaned over and whispered to Rob out the corner of my mouth, "Is that JJ?"

"That is _so_ JJ," Speedy agreed.

JJ - and it was obviously him - was wearing a fake mustache, fake bushy grey eyebrows and a rainbow afro clown wig. He was getting odd looks, but nobody seemed to think he was up to anything by the way he was beaming proudly and nobody was running or screaming so I guess it was JJ's version of subtle.

Rob sighed. "I told him to come in disguise. I didn't think I'd need to sign off on it… I should've seen something like that coming."

"I take it then that he's a friend of yours?" Aqualad asked.

"No." Roy disagreed.

"Yes." I nodded.

"Sorta." Rob shrugged slightly. "It's complicated."

"We've all arrested him once or twice," Roy growled under his breath.

"But he's really a nice guy." Roy gave me a significant look. "You know, most of the time," I amended. "When he's sane."

"He was all the best intentions," Robin explained, "but sometimes he goes too far and sometimes he does the wrong thing anyway. Doesn't help who his dad is."

"Why does that have anything to do with him?" Kaldur asked. "Shouldn't he be judged for himself and not his family?"

"Mostly, yeah," Rob agreed, "but with his father's genetics it's kinda tricky."

"Do you four want to keep talking about JJ or do you want to go inside?" Batman growled, apparently annoyed at JJ's lack of stealth.

People were talking all around us. JJ commented loudly every other sentence but nobody seemed to notice. "Is that Batman?" "No, it's someone else disguised as Batman." "I see Flash! And Flash Jr.!" "Lady, I will smack you." "His name's Speedy, _duh_." "I'll smack you too." "Speedy's Green Arrow's sidekick." "_Hero Assistant!_" "Well that makes no sense." "Now you I agree with! Hi-five, random dude!" "Uh… no thanks." "... I don't like you anyway."

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Rob asked me. "I mean… he's not blending in very well."

"He didn't seem too mad and he wasn't laughing. That's a good sign," Roy pointed out. "Besides, he'd sooner beat his own face in than ruin this for us."

"I really hope he doesn't do that," Rob decided.

"I've already got someone monitoring the security feeds in case they need to step in," Batman mentioned. We all felt much better about that, including the other heroes.

"Ready to see the inner sanctum?" Green Arrow asked.

"Born that way," Roy agreed proudly, "We've earned it. Oh- and Tom Cat says congratulations by the way."

"I bet that's not all he says," Rob muttered under his breath. Robin and Tom Cat had a complicated sorta-semi-adopted-step-brothers relationship thing going, and it still wasn't nearly as complicated as whatever you called the relationship between Speedy and Tom Cat. I mostly just shrugged and stayed out of it. No way I was going near that can of worms if I didn't have to.

"I'm glad we're all here," Aqualad decided.

"Have all four - uh, _hero assistants_ ever been in the same place before?" I wondered aloud, remembering at the last second to use JJ's term for it. Honestly, I think it sounded even worse than 'sidekicks' but whatever. If using it would keep JJ from yelling in the crowd and correcting me I'd do it.

"Please don't call us that," Roy asked. If it were anyone else I'd say he whined but this was Roy so obviously he was just protesting. "Besides, it doesn't apply after today."

"Yeah, first time at the Hall," I agreed. "I'm a little overwhelmed."

And then Rob started butchering the English language. It later became part of a repeating pattern. I now wish I'd managed to cut it off from the start. If only I knew where it would lead… then again, I'd probably do the exact same thing. It was totally worth it.

* * *

-Dick Grayson/Robin POV-

Today was _so _not the day.

Today was supposed to be the day they trusted us, the day they acknowledged that we were ready for the next level. But instead… I just felt bitter and betrayed and I could read the same thing on Aqualad and Wally's faces too. Roy's opinion had already been made blaringly obvious - not that I blamed him. I mean, they didn't even trust us with the location of their _real_ secret base! That's so unfair! They _lied_ to us. _Batman_ lied to _me!_ I thought he was my _dad!_

"What _is_ Project Cadmus?" Aqualad asked.

"Don't know… but I can find out." I went over to the computer. "It was so worth learning to hack from JJ."

"Yeah, but in exchange now he know how to fight," Wally argued. "He's Bat-Trained too!"

"Isn't that a good thing?" Aqualad asked. Having never properly met JJ, he didn't properly understand.

"Not when you have to fight him," I admitted. "Got it. Project Cadmus is a genetics lab here in DC... That's all there is. But if Batman's suspicious, that means there's something there, he just hasn't proven it yet. Maybe we should investigate," I suggested.

"Solve their case before they do," Aqualad finished. "It _would_ be poetic justice."

"And they're all about justice," I agreed.

"But they said stay put," he contradicted.

"They were talking about blotting out the sun!" I argued, "We wouldn't even be leaving the city and we've all handled small fires before. We can handle this."

"If he's going, I'm going," Wally agreed excitedly. "We are so going!"

We both grinned eagerly at Aqualad and just like that we were a team on a mission.

* * *

-Kaldur/Aqualad POV-

The second we stepped out the backdoor of the Hall of Justice we heard, "_Pssst! What happened?_" A familiar rainbow-colored afro popped up behind the Batmobile. "Hoodling was lookin' major pissed so I didn' bug him, but you all look… like you don' wanna get caught." He raised a ridiculous fake bushy eyebrow in suspicion. "Now I'm wonderin' if I should tell Bossy B..."

"JJ, do you want to come with us?" Robin offered quickly, clearly trying to dissuade him from informing the League.

"Can I ride the Batmobile?" he asked.

"Well, duh. That's how we're getting there," Kid Flash pointed out.

"Can I drive?" JJ seemed very eager at the prospect.

"Not after what happened last time," Robin cut him off. "But it'll be fun."

"Where'r we goin'?" he asked, already hopping into the back seat and shedding his - very poor - disguise. "Can I drive on na way back?"

"No. And what kind of disguise was that supposed to be anyway?" Robin complained, getting into the drivers seat. "You couldn't find a more subtle way to hide your hair?"

"Every single 'air place 'lready knows me," JJ complained. "I broke in tah see 'f 'ey could 'ide the color. Didn' work tho. An' I didn't know where else ta get a wig!"

* * *

The second we got there Kid Flash ran ahead to catch some scientists before they fell, getting caught on a ledge two stories above ground. He would have broken his ankle if he fell. "We need a plan," I told Robin and JJ, "We need- Robin?" _Where'd he go?_

A laugh echoed across the parking lot. "We're gonna need to improvise some," JJ informed me. "And you're gonna need ta get used tu _that_. Ih happens lots."

I chased after them, borrowing the firefighters' hose to reach the roof and rescue the scientists before descending to meet up with the first two. Somehow JJ had disappeared as well somewhere in between. I wasn't sure where he was.

That is until he started shouting. "Did _nobody_ see that?! 'Cause humans don' usually 'ave heads shaped tha' way! Like, ever!"

"See what?" I asked, entering the hallway. "And how did you get in here?"

He shrugged. "Through tha front door an' took the stairs like a normal ass person. An' how'm I suppos'd tah know what it was?" JJ complained. "I can tell you it's smart 'nough to use an elevator, obviously. An' it's got something stickin' outta it's head."

"Elevators should be locked down in a fire," Kid Flash pointed out.

"And high speed express elevators should't be in a building this small," Robin added.

Ripping the door open, I could see that the elevator shaft extended a long distance underground. "This is never a good sign," JJ noted.

* * *

-JJ POV-

"Wait… you're telling me that we're in an illegal genetics lab that makes _weapons_, there's a _triple encrypted_ file named Kr, which is the atomic symbol for _Krypton_ and I'm the only one who thinks this is very, _very_ bad?" I asked, urgency building to near-panic levels.

"When did your grammar improve?" Aqualad asked, focusing entirely on the wrong thing.

"When shit gets serious, so do I. Is that really what you took from this conversation? I'm sending an email to Bossy B," I decided, already pulling out my phone.

"No!" Dickiebird argued, "We can still handle this, we don't need the League just yet!"

"Yeah, JJ, don't be a quitter," Racer complained.

I hesitated. "Fine," I conceded, not liking the idea of going in blind without backup. "But I'm setting it to send automatically at the touch of a button or if we lose signal," I said, already typing on my phone. "I will not be responsible for getting you people killed."

"Agreed," Aqualad decided and the other two seemed to accept this as well.

"Don't move!" someone ordered, startling me so badly I leapt into the air for a second there. "Wait- Robin? Aqualad, Kid Flash? What are you doing here, and who's this guy?"

"Nobody important," I dismissed. "Can you point your scary lizard monkey things somewhere else? They're freaking me out."

"They're called Genomorphs," Dickiebird pointed out.

"I like JJ's name better," Racer decided.

Aqualad ignored us and tried to negotiate his way out of a fight. It was working too until - "Mind control! You all saw! That was mind control right there! I'm right!"

"We know!" Racer agreed, "Now help us fight these thing!"

I hit one scary lizard monkey thing with my baseball bat and it crashed into another. "What do you think I'm doing?" I complained, "Narrating?!" We managed to fight them off for a short while before chasing after Dickiebird. "I'm glad you secured the elevator or we wouldn't have anywhere to run to," I said, "but couldn't you have warned us first?"

"Weren't you right behind me?" he asked cockily.

"I will slap you," I warned him, glaring. Don't think I won't."

"Why are we going down?" Aqualad asked. I still haven't come up with a good enough nickname for him yet.

"If I call you 'Gills' would that be offensive, like _racist_ or offensive like just annoying?" I asked him. He looked at me like I had two heads but didn't seem overly insulted. "Gills it is then."

"We're here, sublevel fifty two," Dickiebird announced, "Project Kr is down here."

The doors opened. I took one look at the hallway and announced, "You know, there's a really good 'belly of the beast' joke to be made here, but it's just not coming to me."

"C'mon!" Racer grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hallway, which totally felt like walking down some big monster's esophagus but whatever.

"Bizarre looking hallway one or two?" Dickiebird asked.

"Hold!" someone ordered.

"It's a he!" I panicked. I'd actually called him an 'it' earlier when I first saw his silhouette in the elevator. I really hate de-humanizing people/aliens/sentient lifeforms when they're just as smart (probably smarter) than I am. I had a thing about it. That was never my intention. It _was_ my intention to take bizarre looking hallway number two before we could get telekinetically beaten bloody though. Which luckily lead to Project Kr. Who knew, right?

"Uh… guys? You'll want to see this," Racer told us. He turned on the lights.

"Aw shit," I announced. "Just for once, I'd like to be wrong about this sort of thing. Just once."

"Think he's a clone?" Racer asked.

"No. He's Superman's love child with Lex Luthor. OF COURSE HE'S A CLONE!" I shouted, using their real names for once.

"Robin, hack," Gills ordered.

The poor guy was only sixteen weeks old. And grown from Mr. Underwear's DNA. Shocker there. And the telepathic scary lizard monkey things were teaching him… who knows what. He was a prisoner. And he was created to be a weapon. He wasn't given any choice. _Those sick fucks_.

"We've got to get him out of here…" I murmured.

"Set him free," Gills ordered. "Do it."

And then we were attached by a badass mini-Kryptonian. Which was far from an ideal way to spend the day. The others wasted time saying things like, "We're on your side!" "We only sought to help you!" "I don't want to do this!" and such. I didn't. Nor did I fight back when he was attacking the others. I'd seen the scary lizard monkey things' horns glow. I knew he wasn't in control right now, if he ever was. The clone turned towards me.

"I'm not going to fight you," I said simply, dropping my bat (not that it would have done much good anyway). "And I won't blame you either." And hen his fist connected with my face and everything went black.

* * *

-Superboy POV-

What did they want with me- with Cadmus? What were they doing here? Who were they? Why had I brought the younger green haired boy's bat with me when I should have left it? Was it because he refused to hit me? Why _didn't_ he hit me? I had so many questions bouncing around in my head I didn't know which to think first. All four of them woke up at the same time. Was that normal? Were they as disoriented as I was waking up? Should I be worried? That last one made me snort. Of course not. They were no threat. Not to me and definitely not when they were restrained and suspended in pods.

Pods. This was the first time I'd been out of mine. It was… anticlimactic. Sure, I got to fight but that wasn't too different from simulations I went through in my head. The Genomorphs told me to attack, so I did, and I won. As expected. I was a weapon, designed to be able to defeat Superman. Of course I won against these four, especially when that last guy refused to fight back.

"Quit staring, you're freaking me out!" the yellow one (Kid Flash my memories supplied) shouted.

"Why is that his problem?" the green haired one asked. I didn't know who he was. "Hi there! My name's JJ." he greeted happily. I'm pretty sure I must have given him a concussion and that's why he was so chipper and why there was a brilliant growing bruise on his right eye. "Ooh! My bat! Thanks! I'm glad I didn't lose that one. It's pretty good."

"Why did you attack us?" Aqualad asked. "We weren't trying to hurt you."

"I _told you _there was mind-control at work here but does anyone listen to me? No!" JJ complained. I was under the impression that he was a very vocal person under almost any conditions. Mostly because he wouldn't shut up. "He wasn't in control!"

"What if I-" My voice felt rusty and broken as though I hadn't used it in a long time. In reality, I had never used it ever. "What if I wasn't?"

"He can talk?!" Kid Flash shouted in surprise.

That pissed me off a little bit. "Yes. _He_ can," I informed them. Anger was an easy emotion to feel, so much better than confusion. Confusion lead to fear, which lead to weakness. Weapons were not meant to be weak. Anger was easier, better.

"It's not like I said 'it'," he defended, cowed.

"If anyones calls a 'he' an 'it' I'm going to slap them," JJ announced agressively. "Same thing with 'she's. He's not a fucking animal! Racer, you're getting off because you didn't a_ctually_ say it and because I'm tied up anyway."

"The Genomorphs taught you telepathically, right?" Aqualad asked, as though indirectly confirming what JJ had said. I wasn't some dumb animal.

"They taught me much," I defended. "I can read, write. I know the names of things."

"That is the most heartbreaking thing I ever heard," JJ announced, looking... was he _concerned_ for me?! "You've never seen any of it, have you? In person? Please at least tell me that you've eaten solid food?"

"Have they ever even let you outside?" Robin asked. "To see the sun?"

"Images are implanted in my mind. But- no. I have not seen them," I admitted. It sounded wonderful though. Memories of the sun held warmth and light, two things drastically missing here on sublevel fifty two. And as for food… all my energy so far had come from my solar suit. I'd never even been fed liquid sustenance through tubes. I wondered if everything really did taste like chicken or if my memories were just faulty.

"Do you know what you are? _Who_ you are?" Aqualad ventured.

Now that was a question I had the answer to. It was written in my very DNA. "I am the Superboy. A Genomorph. A clone made from the DNA of the Superman. Created to replace him should he perish. To destroy him should he turn from the Light."

"And you signed up for that now did you," the youngest asked sharply, almost before I finished speaking. "They asked your opinion about what _you_ want to do with _your_ life?"

"No…" I admitted. _But what else should I do?_

"Even Mr. Underwear was a life _besides_ being Super all the time. Secret identity and everything. What do you do for fun? When you're not out badassing it up? Just stand in your pod? Please don't say yes."

"I-" he was confusing me again. I hated being confused, it pissed me off. "That's none of your business."

"I don't care," JJ declared, "I'm asking anyway. You should be asking questions too. You're alive aren't you? So act like it. Ask your own damn questions and find your own damn answers. Don't be such a fucking puppet all the time!"

"JJ!" Robin cut him off. "How about we _don't_ piss off the guy who can fry us with a look?"

"Hey, at least he'd be making his own decisions," JJ argued petulantly. Mentally I compared him to a child and found that despite matching the definition by being obviously before puberty and below legal age of majority, the _connotation_ of such a word didn't fit him. There was no innocence or naiveté in his eyes.

"Yeah, and you'd be missing your head!" Kid Flash protested.

"You deserve a place outside your pod," Aqualad persuaded, "Outside of Cadmus."

"I live _because_ of Cadmus!" I shouted defensively. "It is my _home!_" It's all I've ever known. It's safe. Things made sense here. They still would if you weren't here.

"It's one depressing ass home," JJ observed blandly, glancing around. "And I know a thing or two about bad homes."

"You're living in a _test tube_," Robin argued. "We can show you the sun."

And wasn't that just the most tempting thing I could think of. "I'm pretty sure it's after midnight," Kid Flash amended, "but we can show you the moon?"

"We can introduce you to Superman," Aqualad offered. And I'd found something even more tempting than the sunlight.

"Granted, _I_ think he's an ass but you know, whatever you want," JJ agreed. "You're one of the good guys. You deserve your own fucking life. Least we can do is help you know what your options are. We can help with that."

"No, they can't," Dr. Desmond announced, entering behind me. "They'll be otherwise occupied. Activate the cloning process."

"Why would you even _want_ a clone of me?" JJ asked, almost affronted. "I mean, those three I get but _I_ just seem like a waste of resources."

"And get the weapon back in its pod!" Dr. Desmond shouted.

"WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE I'M SLAPPING YOU IN THE FACE!" JJ roared angrily, "WITH MY _BAT!_"

"Help us," Aqualad ignored his friend and said the words, but they sounded more like a request than an order.

"You know, if you want," JJ added. "I mean, I want you to, but it's your call I guess."

I hesitated. Feeling Guardian's hand on my shoulder I shrugged him off. JJ had said something about making my own decisions, right? How was I supposed to do that with everyone asking things of me? What was I supposed to do? But did I even want someone to answer that question?

"Don't start thinking now!" Dr. Desmond complained. "You're not a real boy, you're a weapon. And you belong to me. Well, to Cadmus but same thing really." A Genomorph jumped up onto my shoulder. JJ's bat slid out of my hand and landed on the floor. All the questions faded. There was no need to ask questions when I already knew what to do: Wait patiently for my orders.

"Dude, people aren't property. That's illegal in the United States," JJ pointed out. "Slavery and all. Does he get paid?"

"Shut up!" Dr. Desmond ordered. "You're a criminal anyway! What do you care?"

JJ stiffened. "That's not my fault," he muttered, but otherwise became subdued, as though his will to live had been instantly snuffed.

"Now get back to your pod!" Dr. Desmond ordered. And I left.

I could still hear though. They were in pain. All four of them were screaming and trying to hold it in. I never knew cloning could be such a painful process.

I heard Aqualad's voice. "Superboy, you live. That give you the right to choose your own path. As a weapon, or a person. The choice is yours. But ask yourself: what do you want for yourself?"

_What do I want?_ I stopped walking. _What do I want? I want… to see the sun. And the moon. And eat solid foods._ I wanted to watch people interact some more. I wanted to learn. I wanted to see things for myself. I did not want to be told what to do. I didn't want to be a puppet. Being a weapon was fine but… even Superman wasn't super all the time.

I looked back.

* * *

-Dick Grayson/Robin POV-

The electricity cut out. That was the first thing I noticed. Then I noticed that JJ was giggling. "Uh-oh," I breathed, hurrying to pick the lock with my glove without rushing and compromising my skill.

Superboy was glaring at us again. "Are you here to help us or fry us?" KF asked nervously.

"Huh. I don't seem to have heat vision so I suppose helping is my only option," he decided. JJ's giggle evolved into a strangled laugh as I managed to get the cuffs off and ran over to the control panel to free the others.

"Nearly lost yer head!" he laughed. "_Nearlylostishead!_"

"Crud, JJ's loosing it again," Wally observed. "Rob, we need to handle this before he gets violent or we'll never get out of here."

"You think I don't know that?" I complained, hitting the final key and watching my friend fall to the ground. Aqualad thanked Superboy while JJ ran over to his bat, grabbed it and bashed Desmond across the face.

"That's for calling my friend an 'it' you bastard!" he shouted, winding up for another blow.

KF grabbed him from behind. "Woah there, JJ. You already hit him. No need to get carried away." JJ struggled a little, mumbling curses under his breath viciously but unwilling to hurt Wally in order to get to Desmond. "No," Wally ordered firmly, "Okay? No. Don't hit him anymore." JJ took a few deep breaths, calming himself down carefully.

"Is… he okay?" Superboy asked, confused.

"JJ has schizophrenia and a few other mental anomalies that haven't been fully diagnosed just yet," I explained. "As long as we avoid an episode he should be good."

"Does this happen often?" Aqualad asked, concerned.

"Do you guys want to stand here and discuss my insanity or do you wanna break outta here?" JJ asked abruptly. "We gotta go!" Internally, I sighed. JJ was always uncomfortable discussing his mental issues. And this wasn't the best time to be discussing them anyway.

"You green haired fucker!" Desmond shouted from the ground where he lay after JJ hit him as we all rushed past. "I'll have you and your friends back in pods by morning!"

I tossed some explosive disks at the tanks with our blood in them as we ran. "That guy is not whelmed. Not whelmed at all."

"Wait a second, what's whelmed?" JJ asked.

"Can we talk about this later?!" KF complained. "We got troll sized scary lizard monkey things!"

Or at least we did until Superboy beat the crud out of them, and nearly took down the tunnels in the process. JJ gaped before reverting back to his flippant, lighthearted character. "I'm sensing some anger issues here, and obviously no formal fighting instruction but that was still seriously epic."

We made the elevator. I quickly grabbed JJ by the waist and grappled my way up. KF used his speed and momentum to follow. Superboy grabbed Aqualad, leapt upwards… and started to fall. I threw a birdarang quickly so Aqualad would have a handhold, but Superboy seemed to be in shock a little bit.

"Superman can fly. Why can't I fly?" he asked.

"Could be anything," JJ shrugged in my grip, nearly making me drop him. "You've never been directly exposed to sunlight which could suggest lack of proper fuel for your powers. You don't have any practice and have never tried it before. There might be a trick to it. They could have messed up somewhere in your DNA and you're genetically incapable. Might even be that you're just too young yet to have fully developed all your powers seeing as you're still in puberty."

"Whatever. It looks like you _can_ jump tall buildings in a single bound," KF pointed out. "Still cool."

Superboy didn't look very reassured, but thanked Aqualad for stopping their fall anyway.

"The elevator's starting up," JJ pointed out. "We should move." Superboy and Aqualad punched through the door easily. We exited the shaft just as the elevator hurtled past us. And naturally Genomorphs were there to greet us. "And we're running again."

Superboy seemed to know where we were going and I was delighted to see one of my favorite things: vents! I hacked the motion sensors on the way there, beaming as JJ called me a troll. Trolling people another one of my favorite things. It's a strange list.

Getting up the stairs was exciting, but not as hard as it could've been. That is, until we were ambushed at sublevel one. We were surrounded by Genomorphs of all sizes on all sides. Then I passed out.

* * *

-JJ POV-

Someone slapped me across the face. "Five more minutes," I mumbled incoherently and rolled over. Someone slapped me harder.

"Wha's goin' on?" I asked, peeling my eyes open. "Racer? Whyr you in my room?"

"Dude!" he complained loudly, "You weren't supposed to actually fall asleep! We've got baddies to fight!"

"Project Blockbuster will give me the power to restore order to Cadmus," Dr. Ponytail announced.

"Don't let him-" he drank it, "...drink it. Well shit. That's never a good thing." And it wasn't. Dr. Ponytail fell forward, obviously in pain. "Maybe it'll just kill him?" I offered hopefully. Of course I jinxed it because right after I said that his muscles bulged their way out of his labcoat and his eyes changed color to red irises on black. "Or not." His muscles bulged out of his skin, bones cracking as his spine curved and neck thickening so much it nearly disappeared. Dr. Ponytail's partially shed skin remained shriveled and shredded in a layer around him. "That's one of the most disgusting things I've ever seen, and I'm homeless in _Gotham_."

Guardian was swatted like a fly and Superboy (who also needed a nickname - Underwear Jr. wouldn't work since he obviously wasn't rocking his father's look) got tackled through the ceiling. I had to take a lift to the second floor with Gills.

Pretty much everything we were doing to fight Uglyjuice (he used to be Dr. Ponytail, but I renamed him for obvious reasons) wasn't working. I hit him in the chest hard enough to break my bat, chuckled nervously and tried to stab him with it in the eye. Unfortunately, I fell too short, only getting him in the lip and still not making a dent. And got flung into a wall. Hard. Actually, I think everybody got flung into a wall at least once in this fight. It was a common thing. We should start a club.

"JJ, KF, check this out!" Robin shouted, having come up with a plan. Which I loved. When in doubt, blow everything up! Well, and use Racer's endless banter as a distraction but that always happened anyway so nothing special there.

The roof came down right on top of Uglyjuice and I cheered. "Oh yeah!" Then it started falling down on us too. "Oh no." Superboy tackled Racer and I to the ground. It was a small miracle that we weren't crushed. The dust cleared and Superboy pushed the rubble off of us. I looked around. "Well. Ah bin through worse," I decided, shrugging. "Ih wus _totally_ worth it!" I hugged Superboy around the middle. "You saved all our lives, you know that?" I asked him, quietly, letting the shredded remains of his shirt muffle my vo. I knew he'd be able to make it out anyway with his super hearing. I knew he needed to know that. "Now yer stuck wit' us!" I beamed up at him, showing off what _felt_ like a brilliant black eye.

Superboy blinked at me in surprise before smiling slightly and ruffling my hair. I actually liked that. Usually, I hated it when people touched or even looked at my hair. There wasn't a hairdresser in Gotham that I hadn't broken into and demanded that they dye it a different color, despite it never sicking. I hated what my green hair represented. But Superboy didn't know about my dad. He only knew me. And I liked it that way. It felt good not to be judged. It also felt like lying, but just for the moment, I ignored that feeling and let myself bask in the feeling of having my hair ruffled by a friend out of honest affection.

"See?" Racer asked, "It's the moon!"

"And it's full too!" I realized happily. "And Mr. Underwear is coming," I realized with significantly less happiness.

"Do we keep our promises or what?" Racer asked eagerly.

The Justice League was close enough now for me to see their faces. Not one of them looked happy to see us. I earned my very own glare from a few of them, including Mr. Underwear. As much as I felt my insides shrivel I glared right back and stuck out my tongue before turning away as snootily as I could manage.

Superboy strode forward with much more self-assurance than I would manage in a lifetime and showed the crest on his ripped uniform. Mr. Underwear's eyes widened, and not in a good way. I started balefully at the stub of the baseball bat in my hand. There would be absolutely no point in hitting him with it. It was a rather pathetic weapon now and he was invulnerable anyway.

"Is that what I think it is?" Bossy B asked.

"Oi! Dere'll be no callin' of _him_ as an _it_, thank you very much!" I shouted. "I'll let chya off this once a'cause I don' wan'chya ta kill me an' yer the Batman, Bossy B, but don' do it again!" All the adrenaline was wearing off and I found myself leaning against Superboy slightly, tired and beaten. My eye hurt.

"I'm Superman's clone," Superboy announced defiantly.

Bossy B narrowed his eyes at us. "Start talking."

I mostly zoned out for a bit. Or maybe I blacked out? All I know is that I probably would've fallen if Superboy wasn't standing next to me, holding me up with a hand at my back. I was grateful for that.

"You okay there JJ?" Dickiebird asked me as the adults moved off to confer telepathically amongst themselves with the aid of Señor Green. "You look dead on your feet."

"Yeah," I waved him off. "Jus' tired 's all."

"Well, you _are_ just a kid," Racer pointed out. I scowled. I may be eleven years old, but I'd stopped being a kid years ago. "We've all had a pretty exciting day. Nobody'll blame you if you need nap."

As nice as some proper sleep sounded I still chucked the remaining handle of my bat at him. He dodged easily but it still got my message across. I wasn't sleeping until this was _over _and _done with_.

Mr. Underwear came up, made some bullshit excuse and flew away. Internally I swore at him before scheming. I'm sure Dickiebird saw the expression on my face or something because he raised an eyebrow but I waved him off. It was a plan for another time. One when the mentors (minus Little John) weren't bearing down on us. Bossy B came up to scold us and I frowned at him. "You hacked Justice League systems, disobeyed direct orders and endangered lives." I raised my hand in the air and waved it vigorously, urgently waiting to be called on (even _I_ knew better than to talk over the Batman). Bossy B let out a breath that on a lesser man would have counted as a sigh. "Yes, JJ."

"I'm actually pretty sure you're wrong," I asserted. It probably came out a little weaker on account of my being dead on my feet and having a beauty of a black eye which I'm pretty sure gave me a concussion but I spoke as clearly as I could. "Didn't you grant them access to those same Justice League systems earlier today? Because you said you would going in. And you never ordered them _not_ to go to Cadmus either. They stayed in the same city and went to go help with what they though was just a fire while you guys were busy with other things. All three of them have handled bigger and worse fires before. When they discovered that there was more going on, they prepared an email to inform you of the situation should it prove out of control. The only lives they endangered were their own, and they do that every day as heroes. They did good. I don't get why you're so pissed Bossy B."

"Regardless of the outcome we are not happy," he overrode me. "This will not be happening again."

"I'm sorry," Gills cut him off, "but it will."

"Aqualad stand down," Aquaman ordered.

"I'm sorry my king, but no." _Damn, Gills was some balls_. "We did good work here tonight. The work you trained us to do. Together, _on our own,_ we forged something powerful, important."

Fwoosh cut in, "If this is about your treatment at the Hall, the three of you-"

"The _five_ of us," Racer corrected his mentor, "And it's not."

"Batman, we're ready to use what you taught us," Dickiebird reasoned, "or why teach us at all?"

"Why let _them_ tell us what to do?" Superboy asked irritably. "It's simple: Get on board or get out of the way."

"They're all good kids (even if Wally can't count) and you know that. They've earned your respect repeatedly by now. But they're not going to stay kids forever," I explained, "It's time you stopped _protecting_ them and started _trusting_ them."

"JJ, I was counting you too," Racer explained in an undertone. I'm pretty sure my eyes bugged out a little but I didn't say anything, not wanting to ruin our argument.

Racer thought I counted as one of them? That I was… _good_ enough to stand with them? I mean, yeah, sure I physically stood next to them all the time but from any other standpoint I just couldn't see how I was meant measure up to their standards. They were heroes. They were good. I was… not. But I wanted to be. And maybe, just maybe, that would be good enough. If I tried.

And so we stood together, staring down the older heroes side by side, ready to strike out on our own if necessary. Not one of us was backing down. Not this time.


	3. The Cave of Badassary

**I've been informed that it's actually G-Gnome, not Genome. I will now inform you that I don't care, and I'm keeping it as it is. Suck on that, nitpickers! **

**Also, a minor WARNING on TomCat's dirty thoughts. He's a pervert and kinda fun to write so I might get a little carried away… just giving you a heads up. **

* * *

-Roy POV-

I'd been surprised when JJ wasn't there to help recruit me to their little club. A little worried and a little guilty too. Worried because JJ never missed out on a chance to visit and guilty because… I'd kind of taken out my anger on the Team earlier. Brick had pissed me off, constantly comparing me to Green Arrow like that and then they showed up, ranting on about how great their opportunity was and how excited they were and how cool the Cave was. And while no, I really didn't want any part of it, that didn't mean I had to call them a joke or anything. But feeling guilty didn't mean I was going to apologize. I had too much pride for that.

I returned to the warehouse I'd chosen as a temporary hideout. More of an in-between place than anything. I'd used it a few times when I wanted to avoid Ollie and didn't feel like imposing on Dinah in the meantime. That didn't mean it was pleasant or that I was considering it for permanent lodgings. Just until I managed to land a job and get my own place properly. I was eighteen, old enough to do things on my own. I didn't need anyone's help.

"BOO!" JJ jumped out from behind a crate and I nearly smashed his face in on reflex.

"JJ!" I shouted, "Don't do that! I nearly beat the crap out of you! Wait, what are you carrying?"

JJ had with him a truly gigantic duffle bag. Seriously, I didn't know they came that big. He beamed up at me and unzipped the top to show me what was inside proudly. "The bows are from Little John. _Technically_ I stole them but he hasn't said anything about it so either it's another example of his stupidity (which is what I think) or it's his indirect way of giving his blessing. The money's from Dickiebird, he says it _also_ comes from LIttle John, which is rather devious of him. This here is an untraceable bank card under the name 'Harry Royal' with a good fifty thousand on it and then there's the one thousand right here in cold hard cash. Racer's got you an apartment at this address, right across from a Zeta if you need it. Gills basically helped by distracting people while we were working on this so nobody should know about it (except probably Bossy B, but he's cool so don't worry). I got you the outfit, _several_ new false identities for you (including Harry Royal), a few trick arrows that I'll be wanting your feedback on by the way too see how good they are, a new communicator (though it's technically still a prototype and I want feedback on that too), this cell phone with _everyone's_ numbers in it, and a picture of what I did to Little John when I realized how badly he fucked up (digital copy in the phone too, just in case)."

"JJ, I-"

"BUT!" he cut me off, "You only get this stuff on one condition, which you must verbally agree to. Okay? Repeat after me. I, Hoodie..."

I rolled my eyes, at least until I noticed that he called me 'Hood_ie_' instead of his usual 'Hood_ling_'. Was that an upgrade? Nonetheless… "I, Roy Harper…"

JJ glared at me. "I, _Hoodie_, do solemnly swear upon all sorts of important things that I will call the Team (that's what we're called now) at least once a week."

"I, Roy Harper, do solemnly swear upon my bow and my role as a hero that I'll call the Cave at least once a week," I promised, grinning at him.

"Meh, close enough," JJ shrugged.

"You damn brat," I accused teasingly.

"Thank you," JJ declared, stepping aside and granting me access to the oversized and overstuffed duffle bag. "If you don't call the first week, I'll worry for the entire second week, and come charging after you the third. And if you _ever_ need our help with _anything_ you gotta call, okay? I can't promise for the others but _I_ won't even tease you about it!"

JJ started up at me. For all he was an annoying brat, he was a good kid. His heart was in the right place and he was always trying so hard to do the right thing. To make friends. To be loved. And I didn't blame him.

I never knew my mother, not even her name. Roy Harper Sr. had died when I was only two, too young to remember him. Brave Bow had taken me in as a member of the Tachini Tribe but I was never his _son_. No matter how good I got at archery or how fluently I spoke the language I still didn't have a drop of native blood in my body and there was no compensating for that in his eyes. **(AN: Yes, I actually researched Roy's past because I have too much time on my hands.)** Ollie was… Ollie had given me hope of maybe having a father but never followed through. I had wanted so badly to be good enough to stand by him and to hear that I wasn't and maybe never would be… I guess I never really had a dad. Dinah did a great job as an aunt, but she wasn't a mom. Not quite.

My brothers though were different. Dick and Wally and JJ… them I _loved_. They were precious. Them I valued above anyone else. They were the ones I was most worried about, how they would be affected by my going solo. Would they think I was leaving them? That I didn't care? My decision was entirely based off my failed relationship with Ollie but I couldn't kid myself into thinking it wouldn't make any difference between me and my brothers. It's not like they didn't have anybody else to fall back on.

Dick had Bruce. Wally had his Uncle Barry. But JJ… for all that he tried to believe his mother loved him we all knew she didn't. Or at least, Harley Quinn loved the Joker more than she loved her son. And there was nothing any of us could do to fix that. JJ wasn't loved nearly as much as he deserved. There was little any of us could do to fix that when he refused flat out to leave the streets of Gotham and live with any of us, no matter what we argued or how we pleaded. I'm pretty sure Wally even kidnapped him the one time and he just wandered back. JJ just wasn't ready to let go of his mom yet.

I didn't blame him. His parents were messed up, but they were still his parents. Parents are supposed to love you. For all my father died I had still never doubted that he loved me. So yeah, JJ was clingy and yeah, he had all sorts of mental issues left right and centre, but I couldn't blame him. I never blamed him. Sure he was annoying, but I loved him.

And here he was trying to help me as I was trying to break away and strike out on my own. I knew me leaving scared him. I could see it in his too-green eyes. But the self-sacrificing little shit was helping me.

I hugged him.

"I promise to visit too," I offered, knowing it wasn't much but at least it was something. "At least once a month."

"You better," he mumbled into my shirt. "I'mma miss you. I mean, yer still in Star an' ye still doin' na same but…" JJ's hug was so tight it would've hurt if he wasn't so small and scrawny. "I'll miss you."

I had to kneel down a little to look him in the eyes. "Thank you, JJ. I'll see you around, okay? I promise. I'm not abandoning you." JJ nodded, not quite believing me. "You really think I'd leave you and Wally and Dick? Nah, you're not rid of me just yet." JJ nodded harder this time, a smile building on his face as he started believing me. I hated that he didn't think he alone was worth visiting by himself.

"See ya 'round, Roy!" he shouted after himself as he ran off, apparently done talking to me.

"Yeah. See you around JJ." But he couldn't hear me.

It was just me and a bag filled with things my friends had given me, along with their blessing. And that was more than I could ever ask for.

I looked at the picture JJ had taken. Ollie was tied to a chair, had doodles drawn all over his face in what was probably permanent marker of multiple colors, and his hair had been dyed bright neon blinding blue. His stupid looking goatee had beaded braids in it. There had been a bucket of rainbow-colored glitter dumped over his head.

The picture was framed. I put it on the wall in my new apartment. I _loved_ my little brother.

* * *

-JJ POV-

"_Recognized: Robin B01, Kid Flash B03, JJ B01.5_"

Yep. That's right people. I'm B01.5 and you know why? Our numbers are in order of us becoming hero assistants (with Hoodie as B06 because he's not actually on the team but we want him to be) but I never actually _was_ one. But in terms of experience, I've got even Dickiebird beat because I started out when I was five, a full two years ahead of him. After a long, cumbersome debate we decided that I would be B01.5 instead of B0.5 because I didn't actually do anything _good_ until after I'd met Dickiebird when I was seven. I liked my number. I was damn proud of my number. Nobody better hate on my number. What were we talking about?

"He's arriving now," Gills told us. Did we ask a question? Huh? I noticed an icon with Red Tornado's face moving towards the cave on the holomap. Oh. That's what's happening.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Racer asked, speeding off.

"Me! Yer waitin' fer me!" I shouted, getting ready to run after him only to be scooped up in his arms and carried to the Cave entrance at superspeed. I giggled happily. "I _love_ doing that!"

"I know, you've mentioned that before," Racer pointed out, setting me down and grinning at me.

The Cave door opened up just in time for Red Tornado to land in front of us. "Red Tornado!" Racer greeted enthusiastically.

"Spin Cycle!" I shouted, waving.

"Greetings," he announced. "Is there a reason you intercepted me outside the cave?" His head made little mechanical whirring noises when it turned. I was delighted.

"We hoped you had a mission for us," Gills explained.

"Isn'nat Bossy B's job?" I asked at the same time Spin Cycle told us that, "Mission assignments are the Batman's responsibility." _Meh, same thing_.

"But it's been over a week and nothing really-"

"You will be tested soon enough," Spin Cycle cut Dickiebird off midsentence. "For the time being, simply enjoy each other's company."

Gills wasn't satisfied with that. "This team is not a social club."

"No, but I am told social interaction is an important team building exercise," he offered. "Perhaps you can keep busy by familiarizing yourself with the cave."

I was delighted with the idea. Nobody else was. "Keep busy," Wally complained.

"Do they think we're falling for this?" Dickiebird asked. I was so glad I hadn't hit puberty yet so my voice didn't get all squeaky like that. Then again, it was right on the horizon. Yeesh. Something to look forward to I guess.

"Ooh! I'll find out!" Miss Martian offered, enthusiastically. Miss Martian… yeah. That name had to go. Aside from the fact that I never called _anybody_ by their prefered name if I could help it, I just thought it was a bad name. "I'm sorry, I forgot he's a machine - inorganic. I _cannot_ read his mind."

I frowned. I don't think that 'wanting to know if we're falling for this' was a good enough reason to read someone's mind without permission. Then again, I'm not sure what we're falling for and I'm not sure if there's some sort of telepath code of honor or something going around that I don't know about. Maybe it was okay. I'm not exactly the best person to ask about moral quandaries so I kept my mouth shut. Dickiebird notied me frwning though and smiled at me. I nodded in return.

"Nice try though. So, ah, you know what I'm thinking right now?" Racer asked her.

I sighed. Wally really sucked at flirting. Dickiebird scoffed and elbowed him, "We _all_ know what you're thinking." _Well, maybe not Superboy but I am so not calling him on it if he doesn't. Speaking of, he needs a nickname too. And a civilian name!_ I thought, smiling to myself. I liked coming up with names. It's fun.

"And now we tour the clubhouse," Gills announced. I could hear the restrained irritation in his voice. Seriously, what was everyone so angsty about? Was this a teenager thing? Miss Martian seemed exempt… then again Martians aged differently so she was probably like 45 or 50 or something. That could make her disqualified from teenage angst since she technically wasn't a teenager. Physiologically she was the human equivalent of sixteen though so… my head was starting to hurt.

"Well, Superboy and I live here. We can play tour guides," she offered nervously.

"Don't look at me," Superboy disagreed, apparently uncomfortable in the spotlight. I didn't blame him.

"We won't," Racer promised flippantly before returning to his (very bad) flirting.

I let my mind wander on the tour. I'd already searched the entire thing, having used it as an excuse to procrastinate returning to the hideout the past few days. Dad was out of Arkham again so every second out of the house was worth spending. I still went back every night though to check on my mom. It was actually a pretty cool Cave. Mind you, the name needed work. Mount Justice was a stupid name. The Cave, while slightly less stupid wasn't cool enough.

"We should rename 'is place the Cave of Badassery," I told the others, accidentally interrupting Miss Martian mid-explanation. They all looked at me. "'S a be'er name," I defended.

Racer and Dickiebird just shrugged, having gotten used to my antics. Superboy and Miss Martian were looking at me like I was a new species of particularly funny-looking alien or something. "I'm not even convinced that 'badassery' is a word," Gills frowned at me. "I doubt it's acceptable to have obscenities in the name of our base and I don't know if we are allowed to rename the mountain on the basis of the name not being cool enough."

I frowned at him. "I'm callin' it the Cave of Badassery anyway," I informed him. "You'll just hafta get used to it."

Dickiebird put a hand on Gills's shoulder. "It's best not to fight him on this sort of thing," he told him. "Besides, you get used to it faster than you think."

My phone went off. Dickiebird frowned at me. "That can't be traced can it?"

I gave him a high-grade 'are you stupid' look. "It's _my_ phone. _I_ made it. Duh no." I looked at the screen.

**Come home, cupcake. - Mom**

"Hey, s'rry guys, I gotta go. Me mom needs me," I apologized. There wasn't even a question of me staying for a bit longer. If my mom wanted me, I came. She was my mom. It's what I did.

"Did she say why?" Racer asked.

I shook my head, already headed back towards the Zeta tubes.

"Isn't your dad out again? You should be careful," Dickiebird reminded me.

_Like I don't know that already_. "I always am," I called over my shoulder. "See you guys later, okay? And nobody eat my chicken wizzies!"

If I had known what was going to happen after that… I probably would have gone anyway. After all, I'd thrown the final straw. It was time to face the consequences.

* * *

-TomCat POV-

I had a suck-ass childhood up until I met my mother. Selina Kyle, the Catwoman. Who, just to make thing clear, totally has sexual tension with the Batman on an unprecedented level. If it weren't for, you know, the whole 'criminal' thing Bruce would totally be my step-adopted father by now. Which would be totally cool. As it is, I already see Dick as my punk little brother. JJ is my cousin, for all that I'd excommunicated Harley as my aunt over the fact that I didn't think she treated him well enough. I mean, he's just a little guy. He's _eleven_. I'm nineteen. He's practically a baby in comparison and damn if he doesn't deserve to be treated like one, same as Dick. So maybe I spoil them rotten any chance I get. Nothing wrong with that. Mom does it too.

Then again, it's not like they can't hold their own against most threats. And I check in with them often enough. I see them less now that I've moved to Star City, but it was for the best. I _am_ part cat after all and I didn't like my territory overlapping with my mother, no matter how awesome she is. It just goes against my instincts.

And yeah, I have instincts. And cat ears. And eyes. And a tail. As in, attached to me. As part of my body. But that's a story for another time.

I have a strange relationship with Roy which progresses frustratingly slowly. First time we met was love at first sight. Well, lust. Definitely more in the lust department. And mostly just on my side. Speedy tried to arrest me. Second time too. Come to think of it… he does that a lot. It's kinda sweet of him how he only does that when we're on the job though. If he sees me and I'm not red-handed, he'll let it slide. Mind you, it took him ages to figure out it was me to begin with but still. Roy Harper won't arrest Leon Kyle but Speedy constantly tries to get TomCat in handcuffs. _Mmm, handcuffs. So much fun to be had with those_. Unfortunately, not those types of handcuffs. The arresting type.

It made it that much harder (and more fun) trying to seduce him. Hell, it took me ages to convince him he was bi so I had a shot. That's not to say I'm in love or anything. I'm just working up enough sexual tension to rival that of my mother and Batman is all. And besides, I like a challenge. I also like sex. Lots of sex. With lots of people. I just really want to get Roy. Everyone who knows me knows that. And damnit but I was getting closer. And this newest development had just made things that much easier.

Roy had moved into the apartment directly across from mine. I was actually pretty sure that was Wally's doing (I was so getting him some chicken wizzies next time I saw him!) because I don't think he'd realized yet. I was dressed in my civilian clothes, a simple (tastefully tight) black tank top and dark jeans. No shoes though. I hate those things, never wear them if I can get away with it. Socks either. I have thick soles, okay? My hands are normal though and it's not like I have claws or anything so I see it as an advantage more than anything.

Smirking eagerly, I knocked on Roy's door. I knew when he checked the peephole because I heard him groan. He opened the door, not letting me in. "How did you find out where I live?" he demanded. "I moved in here this morning!"

"Funny thing about that," I grinned at him. "I actua-" I was cut off by the sound of two sets of cell phones and communicators going off simultaneously with the same message in JJ's voice set to repeat.

"_AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER! AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER! AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER!_"

Roy and I were on our way to the nearest Zeta in less time than should have been physically possible to gear up and grab all our weapons in.

"That message was so much more funny when we recorded it!" I growled, bolting out the window instead of bothering with the stairs. Roy followed me, landing less gracefully but not slowing down.

"I need to authorize you for the Zeta to work!" he warned me.

"Just to it!" I ordered, already inside the stupid fucking tollbooth with him while he typed into the keypad. Any other time I would have taken advantage of how close together we were but with JJ in danger I had higher priorities. "The nearest we can get is still a solid five minutes away by foot, faster if we take the roofs. Are we going in guns blazing or what?"

"Guns blazing sounds like a good plan," Roy agreed as the Zeta finally _finally_ started up.

"_Recognized: Red Arrow, B06. TomCat A01._"

Roy said what I had been thinking the whole time. "Hid dad's out. We better not be too late."

* * *

**Yes. I gave you a cliffhanger. I'm an evil troll. And I love every second of it. **


	4. The Clown Family

**WARNING: JJ gets tortured a bit here. Not graphically but it's in there.**

* * *

-JJ POV-

I remember the first time I ever had an episode when I was five (or maybe four?), before I'd even met my father. When I was little I had a teddy bear. He was blue and fuzzy all over and his name was Blue Beary. I'd thought his name was just the cleverest thing under the sun and he went everywhere with me. Some bully, for whatever reason it was, told me Blue Beary was babyish and ripped him away from me before tearing his head off. I cried. Then I sobbed. Then I laughed. And tore off part of the bully's ear with my teeth. Afterwards I threw up. Mom sewed Blue Beary's head back on that afternoon, told me it was alright, and took me back to Gotham to meet my father for the first time since I was born.

When I'm having an episode I seem to have a particularly fascination with body parts - more specifically what happens when you remove them. What it looks like when you use a saw or a knife or hedge clippers. How long it takes to bleed out. I don't have control when it's happening. I just watch and sometimes I can't even do that. It's like I'm trying my hardest to feel something and nothing comes, even when the knife is turned on myself. I'm never suicidal or anything. I just like to see blood. If there's no one around, sometimes I like to see my own. That's never happened outside of an episode though, and what a relief that is.

I don't always know what triggers an episode. Large amounts of pain and stress usually set me off, so does seeing other people's pain and stress. Sometimes the sight of blood works but I've never freaked at the sight of a papercut or anything, it's more of a 'when it's splattered across the walls' kind of thing.

I inherited my insanity from my father, and maybe a little bit from my mother too but she got hers from him anyway so it doesn't really matter in the end. My sense of morality doesn't match up with everyone else's. I have killed before, outside of having an episode. Only rival goons or traitors to my father, but still. I don't see their lives as equal to a civilian's or mine or Bossy B's or any of my friends' lives. I don't care. Never have.

Being insane doesn't make me stupid though. I'm an inventor who can speak eleven different languages (I still haven't mastered _reading_ Hebrew though). That makes me pretty smart for a guy who's never gone to school. Well, I snuck into Gotham Academy a time or too to mess with Dickiebird but that doesn't count. Mom used to be a psychiatrist at Arkham before she fell in love with my dad so she's really smart too. She used to pick out books for me to read on all sorts of topics - mechanics, comparative government, mathematics, geography, physics, politics, biology, robotics, classical literature, engineering, psychology (of course), world history, poetry and social sciences. You'll note that ethics and law books are not on the list. And, for the record, I was happy to read them. In part because it made my mom happy and in part because I thought they were actually interesting.

So yeah, I'm a multilingual mad scientist. Literally. I made Racer's goggles for him and had him give Dickiebird several exploding bladed disks. He showed them to Bossy B and had them mass produced. Several of Hoodie's arrows are my design, including the ice one and the one with polyurethane foam. I had to steal the materials for it but hey, it was totally worth it because I managed to dye it red too!

What was I talking about?

Oh yeah… anyway, so the older I got the worse my insanity got. Sometimes I worry that I'll end up like my dad no matter what I do. There was a time when I wouldn't have minded that, a time when it wouldn't have made any difference to me one way or the other. That time is gone. I do not want to be my father's heir anymore. In fact I actively want not to be like him. I know of course, that it's impossible for me to be good. I can't see my own aura but I know it's not pure - not after all I've done and all I've seen.

I don't really believe that I deserve a spot on the Team, no matter how much I desperately wanted to. I just know that I couldn't turn them down when they included me. I mean… yeah, hanging out with Sylvester and Frozone is great and I love them but their auras don't make me wish I were better than I am. When I'm with Dickiebird or Racer or Hoodie… I don't know. I just feel dirty in comparison. I hate that feeling.

Nowadays I want to do better. I want to be a part of… whatever you call that goodness and light that they seem to have. I'm jealous, lonely even. The Team might just fix that. And _damn_ but I hope it does.

* * *

-Bruce Wayne/Batman POV- (six years before start of canon)

"Harley, you wanted to see me before they locked you up again?" I asked, not believing for a second that this meant anything good. "I'm interested to know why it is that you came back to Gotham after almost five years abroad."

"Listen, Bats, I need a teency weency little favor," Harley asked me, tilting her head to the side in what was probably supposed to be a cute manner. "Could you go down to the hideout and tell JJ that mommy's gonna be away for a while and I'll be back as soon as I get out of Arkham with 'is father? Pretty please?"

Backup a second here. Harley had a son. Whose father was in Arkham. _Oh shit_. This was why Harley had been inactive and out-of-city for so long. "You're asking _me_, your enemy, to go tell your son that you're locked up in Arkham? Does the Joker even know he exists?"

"A'course not! That's why I'm here. JJ needs his father and nobody's gonna keep 'em apart!"

"You do realize that the Joker isn't the caring parent type," I warned her. "He won't threat the kid well. There are other options for him." The boy couldn't be older than five at the most. And with only Harley (and not the Joker)'s influence, maybe he could still turn out okay. I couldn't just leave him to his fate with the Joker. That would end poorly for everybody involved, especially if the boy eventually took up his father's mantle as Clown Prince of Crime.

"What? Foster care system?" Harley sneered. "It wouldn't last a day against 'im."

Normally, people say the kid wouldn't last a day against the system. But considering the boy's parentage I was more inclined to phrase it Harley's way. "Surely you don't think I'll let you turn the boy into his father all over again, do you?"

Harley looked me in the eyes and actually smirked. "It's his choice, in'nit? I thought 'e might be different but 'e bit of another kid's ear off the other day. My little baby boy's growin' up, and there's nothin' you're gonna do about it." She got up off her bunk and gripped the bars in front of her, leaning close despite the fact that I was standing far away from the bars. "'E's _my_ boy. Mine an' Mr. J's. So, you gonna tell 'im I'm comin' back or what?"

And as much as I hated it, I knew she was probably right. Why would the boy trust the Batman over his own family?

* * *

-JJ POV- (4 years before start of canon)

"Nope, not this one either," I told my dad, growing increasingly bored and nervous simultaneously. Bored because this was getting monotonous and nervous because I knew the kinds of things my dad did when _he_ was bored and I didn't want to see them. Especially with these kids around. I felt a little green just thinking about it (nauseous green, not crazy gren).

"Are you sure?" Dad asked, "Absolutely positive?"

"I toldjya dad, I'd know the Robin's aura 'f I saw it. E's snot any of these boys 'ere we already checked. Are there many more?" _I hope not. These boys already have dark streaks in their auras. They're traumatized_. I mean, I guess for most kids being kidnapped by the Joker would be cause for traumatization. I wonder what that meant for me, you know, since I lived with him?

I moved down the line. "'Is one is very much so not 'im either," I complained. "Can't chyour men tell atween people with black and dark brown 'air a least? 'E's got the wrong colors."

The next guy. The very last guy in the lineup. "Well, don'tcha jus' 'ave the prettiest blue eyes I've e'er seen?" I asked the guy, probably about two years older than me. "Didn' know eyes came tha' way." I also didn't know Robin had blue eyes. I didn't break eye contact. I'm not sure if he really believed I could identify him or not, but I did know he wasn't very good at faking fear. Didn't even try as a matter of fact. Robing just started back at me.

I glanced again at his now familiar aura. So bright. So basically _good_ despite the dark streak, just barely faded and probably easily aggravated. I wondered what had caused it. I could do it if I wanted, aggravate the dark smear on his aura. Make it worse. Break him. I didn't want to. I didn't like dirtying such a clean heart.

"Dad, the Boy Wonder isn't here," I said. _Motherfucker. Why the fuck did I say that?! I am SO fuking stupid!_

"Are you sure? Look closer," he ordered. "We took everyone we could find with black hair and athletic training! He should be here!"

I shrugged. "Musta missed 'im. Or we got summat wrong. Dunno. We lettin' 'em go now?" I knew I didn't let my hopefulness sound in my voice. If I were a bad actor, Dad would've shot me two years ago when I first showed up. He was one scary fucker and he did _not_ like it when people (who he wasn't intentionally scarring) showed fear in front of him.

"No," he decided. _Damn_, I thought. "We'll keep 'em until the Bat shows up, eh JJ?"

"Well… quality over quantity right?" I asked, "Whaddo we need a whole roomful a kids when jus' a few'll do? 'Sides, Bat'll show up faster 'f 'e asks aroun' and some 'r back."

"Well, yes, but then how will we get our jollies? There's no fun if there's no one to mess with!" I gulped silently but he didn't notice, examining the other boys. They were my age, a little older even. "Which one should start?!"

_I have to answer_… "Hmmm…" I stalled theatrically. How was I supposed to choose? Who was likely to die fastest? Live longest? Who already had the worst life? Who had the most to lose? "What about Gem Eyes here?" I suggested, gesturing to Robin "Looks like e'll last longer 'n th' others n'nat means more fun!" I felt nauseous faking enthusiasm. _I'm sorry, Robin_.

* * *

-Dick Grayson/Robin POV-

He knew it was me. The Joker's son (JJ my mind supplied automatically) knew I was Robin. I could see it. We both knew. And then… he lied about it. 'Boy Wonder isn't here' he'd said. And the Joker believed him. Of course. What reason would JJ have to lie to the man? On the other hand, I didn't know that either. And aside from that, what was all this nonsense about identifying a person by their aura? To my knowledge there was no such skill. Then again… there were some pretty far-fetched abilities out there, including _magic_ of all things so while it wasn't impossible, I still didn't think it was likely.

"So, kiddo, who do you want to start?" Joker asked me, leaning uncomfortably close to me. He smelled like blood. "Me?" he offered, "Or JJ over here?" The younger boy was pulled firmly to the man's side, arm over his shoulder. "Your choice. A or B?"

"Is their an option C I don't know about?" I couldn't quite keep the semi-sarcastic optimism out of my voice. _Come on, Batman, where are you?!_

"Well, dere's mom," JJ offered, "butchya don' wan' 'er. She's _creative_."

I went with JJ. I regret it now. Not because he was worse on me than the Joker or Harley Quinn would have been, he wasn't. No. I wish I hadn't forced JJ to torture anybody, much less someone who would later become his friend. I know for a fact that he still feels guilty about it. I know he was sorry before we even began.

"Bones, blood, bits or brains? Where d'ya wan' me ta start?"

-Bruce Wayne/Batman POV- (that night)

"I'm sorry, did you just say you wanted to go _looking_ for the guy who _tortured_ you because you want to _talk_ to him?" I knew exactly what he'd said, I just wanted him to hear the words out loud so he could realize just how insane he sounded. "Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?"

"He didn't _want_ to hurt me! And he helped! It would've been so much worse if he wasn't there!" Dick protested.

"So it's a _good_ thing he tortured you?" I demanded angrily.

"No!" Dick shouted, "It's a good thing it wasn't Joker or Harley!"

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place!" _I should have stopped this!_ And that was of course what was really bugging me. I didn't want Dick in danger. I hated that he chose this life. I hated that he needed to do this. I hated how young he was. And while I respected and understood that he needed to be Robin or else he would be consumed by his revenge, that didn't mean I had to like it.

"Bruce… dad," Dick pleaded. _Dammit, now I've got to listen_. "I have to do this. I have to help him. He needs it."

"I believe he should find it acceptable so long as you promise to be cautious, Master Dick," Alfred cut in before I could respond. "And I insist that you return in time for dinner.

You know once Alfred was stepped in that the argument is over. Even if you're Batman. There was nothing I could do about it.

"Fine, but I'm coming with you," I decided.

"Mater Bruce, I thought you had paperwork to do for Wayne Industries?" Alfred commented lightly. _Dammit_. Alfred wouldn't let me get away with anything.

"Just be careful, okay Dick?" I asked.

"I will!" He was already running off.

"They grow up so fast, don't they master Bruce?" Alfred inquired.

"Don't start with me Alfred. I can still fire you." It was an empty threat, but at least it assuaged my dignity. Under no conditions would I fire Alfred.

"As you say, Master Bruce."

* * *

-Dick Grayson/Robin POV-

For all my determination and stubbornness, I wasn't actually sure _where_ to look for JJ. I mean, sure, he lived in the bad parts of Gotham. But frankly, most of Gotham matched that description so that information didn't really help me all that much. What was I supposed to do? Start from Crime Alley and move outward? _Seems like a plan!_

I was about halfway there when I felt something graze against my cheek. "You're real fuckin' stupid if ya go wanderin' alone 'round 'ere withou' the Big Ol' Bat to protect chya, Gem Eyes."

I found him. I wasn't actually sure what to say now that I had. "Thank you?"

"You are not welcome," he said coldly, still immersed in the shadows, apparently unwilling to step forward. "If yer done, ye can go now."

"I- Why did you do it?" I found myself asking without preamble. _Next time I should ask Bruce about interrogation tactics_. "Why did you help me?"

"..." JJ didn't say anything for a minute. "Ya know the whole thing wus me mom's idea?" he asked, seemingly completely off topic. "She did a 'psychological profile' 'r whatever an' did a lotta the work. Then, Dad didn' get 'is Robin. 'E got pissed at 'er." JJ took a few steps forward. At first my eyes were focused on his gun, still pointed at me and now shining in the streetlight. Then I realized what he looked like, the way he was holding himself. "I took the beating. Bunch a goons took the killin'."

I felt myself gasp and take a half step back in shock. JJ… got hurt because of me? Because he helped me? Why? I mean… he said he took it for his mother. Did that mean it wasn't my fault? It certainly proved that JJ wasn't evil or anything. I didn't understand why though.

"Yeah. I know," he said, interrupting my musings. "You done starin' yet?" he asked, lowering the gun but not putting it away. "'M not some freak on display," JJ grumbled uncomfortably.

"Is that why you think I came? To brag or something?" I realized, horrified and inexplicably guilty at the very thought. "Because that's not why I'm here! I just wanted-" I wasn't entirely sure why I had to come but I knew it wasn't that. "I just wanted to say thank you," I realized, "You probably saved my life. I… I don't know how to repay that, or even if I should."

JJ shook his head before using the barrel of his gun to scratch his temple. "Ya know, Gem Eyes, yer a moron. 'M a bad guy. Ya don' owe me _shit_. Keep yer honor code or whatever ter yerself. I don' wan' it. Not yer help, not yer pity. Whichever 'r whatever ya think you owe me, ya don'. And you shouldn' go handin' out favors ta the bad guys. It'll make yer life harder than its gotta be." JJ pocketed his gun, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his oversized hoodie. He turned to leave. "See ya 'round, Gem Eyes. An' stop bein' so nice all the time. Y'll live longer."

"Dick Grayson," I corrected him hurriedly. "You already know my real face so I may as well tell you my name. It's Dick Grayson. So you know."

JJ paused, back still turned to me and spoke. "My full name 's Jack Jalal Joker. Jack means 'he who supplants' and Jalal bein' the only 'J' name mom could come up with meanin' 'greatness'. Me very _name_ means 'm supposed to replace 'im someday. 'M willin' to accept it." JJ spared me a glance over his shoulder. "Are you?"

"Are you asking for my help?"

"Nah. Jus' makin' an offer," JJ shrugged, once again facing away from me. "We'll be seein' lots of each other. Next time, I'll pro'ably shoot atchya. Bye bye, Dickiebird."

I let him walk away from me after that and watched him link back into the shadows.

"Bye, JJ. I guess I'll see you later."

I had a lot to think about.

* * *

-JJ POV- (present time)

I opened the door carelessly. Who would dare attack the Joker's own son in his hideout? I figured I was safe. "Mom?" I called out. I noticed it was weird how few goons were around but didn't see it as something worth freaking out over. Sometimes dad would shoot them all and sometimes he would kick them all out for particularly extravagant heists so I dismissed it. "Mo~om?" I looked around. Dad was sitting on a crate up against one wall, eyes shadowed by his hair and considering a gun in his hands. "Oh, 'ey dad, have ya seen mom? She texted me a bit ago 'n I don' see 'er anywere."

"I know. I asked her to," he agreed. That was my dad's voice. He sounded calm. I nearly shit myself in terror.

My father is insane. Everyone knows that. What they don't understand is that even if he were sane, he'd still be a serial killer. All he wants is to cause murder and mayhem. Even before he was dumped in a vat of crazy at Ace Chemical Processing Plant, he was already a criminal and serial killer known as Red Hood. After being driven insane, he developed multiple personalities and a few other things along with his physical adjustments, some of which I inherited (his green hair and eyes). But that original personality never disappeared. Dad's Red Hood personality was his most dangerous because it was _smart_ and it _only_ came out when his sole purpose was to cause pain. And now he was talking to me. _Shit just got real_.

"So I take it you wanted to see me?" I concluded, hiding my nervousness.

Dad- Joker, the _Red Hood_ sighed. "I am so disappointed in you, JJ."

"Anything in particularly bring about this revelation, sir?" I asked.

"You made _friends_ with that… _Robin_," he accused darkly, "You _betrayed_ me, your own flesh and blood. Formed a _club_ with the _good guys_ and after all the chances I gave you to break it off, all the times I let it slip." He lifted his head and looked me in the eyes. "I'll kill you for it."

I pressed the button on my emergency alert beacon. _I wonder if he'll decide to torture me first of if they'll just find my body_. "I believe you."

And that's when I got shot.

* * *

-Bruce Wayne/Batman POV-

I was reviewing the Joker's file in the Batcave when the alarm went off. I knew that the Joker was out of Arkham again and I wanted to be ready for whatever monstrosity he was planning this time around. I was trying to figure where his hideout would be this time based off his previous record, and also where JJ had been sighted recently. JJ usually avoided his father if he could help it so it was probably as far from the Hideout as he could manage without entering the upscale districts where he would be arrested on sight.

"_AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER! AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER! AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER!_"

Immediately I sprinted towards the Batmobile, pulling up the digital map along the way which would tell me where the alert beacon was located. I spared half a thought on how annoying the alarm was before slamming on the gas.

No matter how annoying JJ is (intentionally) he's still an unofficial member of the Batfamily. We've had a spot waiting for him ever since he punched Poison Ivy in the face that one time (long story). JJ never accepted it because he refused to leave his mother. None of us had the heart to tell him he shouldn't. Harley Quinn was not a good mother, but she was what JJ thought of as a mother and none of us could quite correct that, not even Selina (despite her best efforts for her 'darling nephew'). It was obvious that kidnapping the boy and locking him up wouldn't work, especially after Wally's poorly conceived attempt a few years ago so we let him be. JJ would spend his days with us or in one of his many workshops scattered across Gotham and his nights at whichever hideout his parents had chosen for the week. When both of them were in prison (and he wasn't in juvie for one thing or another) he'd crash at the mansion with Dick and they'd invite Wally and sometimes even Roy over for the night.

JJ was a good kid, despite everything. He _wanted_ to be good. And now that kid had activated his emergency alert beacon. I knew who had that beacon's coordinates: myself, Catwoman, Robin, TomCat, Kid Flash, Red Arrow and the Cave. JJ wouldn't activate the beacon if he didn't seriously need help. He'd been beaten to within an inch of his life before and still hadn't pressed the button. I wasn't sure what could be bad enough to force him to actually ask for help, but I knew it wouldn't be pretty. I alerted Alfred to ready the Batcave's medical ward for whatever we found. It would be needed.

* * *

-Joker POV-

I watched dispassionately as my son fell to the ground, crying out in pain. I strode over to him and sneered down, stepping on his thigh, applying pressure to the wound. JJ winced in pain, clenching his jaw to keep from crying out. "Stop whining you little bastard. It's just the leg. _That_ won't kill you." I removed my foot only to kick him in the stomach. "_But!_" I kicked him again. "You!" And again. "Will!" Again. "DIE!" JJ's head snapped back and he failed to stifle his shout completely.

"Take your time," the little shit offered, panting, "I've got all day."

Clearly, I wasn't getting through to him. I smirked, grabbing him by the hair (how dare he look so much like me!) and pulling him upright before dragging him over to the wall and slamming him against it. "You think just because you bait me that I'm going to hurry this up and make it quick?" I smirked at him. I was such an evil fuck and _shit_ but I loved it. This fucking bastard could never be like me. He was just a failure. "Don't be stupid, you unwanted little accidental bastard."

"Yeah, well, you can't say I'm not inventive when I want to be." The little shit kicked my feet out from under me, punching me in the face as he did so. As soon as I hit the ground he was on top of me, both hands around my throat, squeezing. JJ's eyes spoke of murder.

I grinned. "You're not going to kill me."

"You sure about that, old man?" he asked, squeezing harder and cutting off my air supply. "Because I don't think it'd keep me up at night."

I laughed wheezily, unable to breathe. JJ's shoulder exploded into a fountain of blood, some of it getting on my face. He wheeled backwards, crying out in surprise just as much as pain.

"Now, cupcake," Harley warned, "we don't strangle each other in this family."

And with her little distraction, our positions were reversed. I was the one with my hands pinning JJ to the floor by the throat. "You see?" I asked him, laughing, "You see why you won't kill me?! Because she doesn't want you to!" I laughed, grabbing his neck and using it to slam his head against the concrete ground again. "Because Harley loves me! Always was!"

"More than anythin', puddin'!" she agreed. I could hear her nodding by the sound the bells on her jester's hat made.

"Exactly." I released JJ's throat and pressed down on his new shoulder wound. "Now I want you to concentrate, kiddo, listen to me," I ordered, speaking very clearly knowing he probably had a concussion by now so his brains would be a little scrambled. "You need to hear this before you die like the unwanted failure of a cheap imitation that you are." I waited until JJ's eyes managed to focus on my face. "Good. There you go. Your mother," I pulled out a knife and carelessly pressed it into the meat where his collarbone met his neck, off to the side, "she doesn't love you. The only reason she didn't kill you at birth," I pushed a little harder and he winced, "is because she thought I might want you." I pulled the knife out and stabbed him in the arm, somewhere painful but not even slightly essential. "She made a mistake." I stood over him, planting my foot on his shoulder, relishing the way blood gushed out from under my shoe where the bullet hole was. "I don't." I beckoned Harley over and she came willingly, pushing herself up against my side like always, hand on my chest and head on my shoulder. "So I'm going to ask her to kill you for me now. Okay?" I felt my grin widen.

The look on that boy's face… his eyes so wide and tearing up in the corners (from pain or betrayal it doesn't matter) while he bites down on his lip, trying not to make a sound… I love victory.

"You got some blood on yer face there, puddin'," Harley pointed out, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping it away. Normally I would push her away at a time like this (most of my personalities would anyway) but it hurt JJ more too see this play out so I let her. Then I kissed her forcefully on the mouth.

"Pudding," inwardly I cringed at the name, "if you kill him for me I'll make it worth your while." I kissed her on the throat, wrapping my arms around her waist. "It'll be completely worth it," I promised. I didn't particularly care. I'd make a different personality deal with it anyway.

Harley glanced at JJ then back at me. "'M ah usin' a gun or mah hammer?"

_And this is why I keep her around_. "Whichever you prefer really," I offered. "It doesn't matter."

She squealed happily and raced off to the side to ger her hammer. It was a ridiculous, gigantic showy thing with purple and green stripes around it and a great big star on the face which was usually where people's heads went. She lugged it in with her advanced strength. JJ's eyes were glued to her, watching her every move as though he was watching the world fall apart.

I chuckled. "Delightful, isn't she? My little Harley Quinn. She never belonged to you. I was _always_ her number one. You look like she broke your heart. Cute that you think you had one in the first place." And I just had to laugh at that. JJ wasn't even using his muscles to look around anymore. He was just lying there, waiting for Harley to come and bash his barns in like a good little boy.

"Now hold still, cupcake," Harley ordered, getting ready to smash the hammer down full force. "This shouldn' evin hurt!"

Harley giggled. I laughed. JJ closed his eyes.

* * *

**What? You thought that because I updated already JJ would be out of danger by now? Oh hell no. I love torturing you guys too much. I'm going to make you stew for a bit. That being said, did you like my flashback into JJ's past? I wasn't sure about the beginning but decided to include it anyway. And look! My longest chapter yet! **


	5. Cats Come in Clutters

**WARNINGS: TomCat's a perv (sorta). Angst. Overprotective cats.**** Rapidly changing POV for no apparent reason. **

* * *

-Five years before start of canon-

* * *

-Roy Harper/Speedy POV-

"Okay, seriously, _look_ how pretty this is!" the thief narrated to himself happily, holding a _very_ large diamond up to the light of the moon streaming through the now missing window. "The Centenary Diamond. A grade D colorless modified heart shaped brilliant diamond. 273.85 karats. Worth about $100 million. It's been called the fifth most expensive diamond in the world. And I just _can't_ get over how pretty it is."

"Yeah, that's nice," I cut him off. "Do you want to put it _back_ now? That doesn't belong to you."

"Only if you can stop me from taking it," he said, sticking out a pink tongue playfully.

I fired. He pulled out a whip and struck the arrow out of the air with seemingly practiced precision, breaking it in half. It exploded once it hit the ground.

Rather than back down, the thief - I'd established he was male by his voice - chuckled happily, "Oh this is gonna be _fun_." And he backflipped off the pedestal he'd been perched on with the diamond, out the window.

I was stunned for a full half second before I realized that no, he hadn't just committed suicide and was in fact getting away. "Right!" I chased after him.

* * *

-Leon Kyle/TomCat POV-

He chased after me. And I was glad. How much fun could I possibly have in Star City if the heroes here gave up the second you got out of sight? I let him 'corner' me on a nice, big rooftop. Plenty of ways to get away if I wanted but enough space to play around with.

I gave my pursuer a careful onceover. And immediately decided that I absolutely _hated_ his hat. Other than that though… The stupid baggy sleeves and gloves blocked most of my view of his arms, but they were almost certainly gorgeous since he was an archer. Red was definitely his color, somehow managing not to clash with his hair and almost making up for the garish yellow that highlighted most of the outfit. He had a lovely jawline and I found myself wondering what color his eyes were behind the mask.

"Give up, thief. You're cornered," the hero ordered.

"It does look that way, doesn't it?" I commented lightly. "Very well then. You got me. I surrender."

I tossed the Centennial at him and he caught it, neatly avoiding dropping his bow in the process - obviously a learned skill, he'd practiced. "What? You're just… giving it to me? Just like that?" He had obviously never practiced dealing with someone like me before, but who can blame him? There _is_ no one quite like me.

"Just like that," I confirmed, explaining, "It's too famous to sell on the black market unless you break it down, and that would just be a crime! I mean… it's _so_ pretty. Smaller diamonds just can't compare. So if I can't have it, I guess I'll just let the museum keep it. For posterity's sake."

"Uh, thanks." I think I broke his brain a little. "Even so, I can't just let you go."

"You don't say…" I stepped into the light, letting him actually see me for the first time.

Internally, I was more nervous in that moment than I let on or would ever admit. I mean to say that I am… less than proud… of my physical differences. You try going through your childhood the way I did and coming out without being a little self-conscious. Besides, he _was_ attractive and I _did_ want to leave a good impression.

I knew what he saw as his eyes widened behind his mask. My work outfit consisted of all black: leather pants, boots, a highly flexible armoured vest (invented by JJ, perfected by the Batman) Black gloves with extendable blades that went halfway up my forearms, a domino mask without eye lenses to keep my night vision from being dampened and let's not forget: black cat ears and tail to match my hair.

My hero's reaction? He just sorta started…

* * *

-Roy Harper/Speedy POV-

"Yeah, I know, I need a haircut," the thief admitted, tugging on his bangs, flicking his ears slightly, like he was self-conscious or something. I wasn't sure what about. Most villains were proud of their mutations or whatever, thinking it made them better than us regular humans. Maybe he was an exception? "Are you going to just stand there or are you going to say something? Your silent treatment is actually starting to freak me out… I thought I was immune… I mean, you get started down by Batman enough times you develop a resistance."

"You've met Batman?" I asked, probably focusing on entirely the wrong thing here but not really sure how to do the whole 'solo' thing. Ollie always made it look easy… then again, Ollie always already knew who he was fighting. I had gotten pissed at him again, wanting to prove that I could do this on my own and ran off. I _still_ do not regret it.

"Of course. I just moved here from Gotham."

"Great." I muttered flatly. "Now we have crazies here in Star."

He frowned at me disapprovingly. "Now that is a very vicious stereotype," he accused. "And several of my friends are crazy, you know? Ease up. There are worse things than to be insane in this world."

"Yeah, I could be a thief," I quipped.

"Take all the class out of it why don't you?" he complained. I wasn't quite sure how being a thief qualified as 'classy' but then again, I wasn't sure how this guy was part cat either so it didn't matter. "The black market around here is all guns and drugs. There's no art, no jewels, nothing of any actual quality!" Seriously? _That's_ what he was complaining about?

"Oh the travesty," I muttered, but he seemed to hear me.

"Exactly. So I'm just gonna have to fix that for you!" He grinned and I realized his canines were sharp, like fangs.

I fired, he dodged and rather than running, charged at me. Hand to hand is not my area of expertise. That being said, he was smaller than me, so I went with the classic 'tackle him to the ground and hold him there before he can hit you'. He _seriously_ didn't expect it.

* * *

\- Leon Kyle/TomCat POV-

I was pinned to the floor with my hands over my head. And I can't say I didn't like it. Because it was _quite_ the opposite. "Hey now," I teased, grinning enough to show him my fangs, "you didn't even ask me to dinner first."

"What?" Clearly he hadn't realized quite the way he was straddling my waist and hovering over me. It normally lead to better things, at least in my experience.

"Not that I mind really," I assured him, "I can work with this." So I kissed him. And for a second, it was great. Everything about it felt very, _very_ right and dammit I wanted him to kiss me back and I wanted more! So, of course, he realized what happened and jerked back. Not one to waste an opportunity, I reversed our positions before he could even blink so he was under me with his hands pinned at his sides, though he looked considerably more flustered than I had. "I can _definitely_ work with this."

And then Green Arrow - whom I shall forever refer to as a _fucking cockblocker_ \- shot us both with an electric arrow. I passed out. When I came to I was handcuffed and on my way to Arkham. It was a long drive. I never got there.

Bitch please, like _handcuffs_ are going to stop me. Fun kind or no.

* * *

-Present Time-

* * *

-Catwoman/Selina Kyle POV-

"_AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER! AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER! AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER!_"

Oh hell to the no. _Nobody_ hurt one of my kittens and got away with it. I would _destroy_ them. And I was close. Probably closer than anyone else since I got there first. Harley was holding her giant hammer over JJ's head. He was covered in blood and not moving. I saw red. And my foot met Harley's face in a perfectly executed leaping spin-kick to the face before I landed in a crouch, defensively positioned over JJ's prone body. _Please be okay_.

"Don't touch _my nephew_ you _**bitch**_!" I snarled angrily. "I'll fucking kill you!"

The thought that Harley would hurt her own child _burned_ me. I was furious. After all I'd gone through trying to ensure the safety of my own son, even without the blood ties I might have wished for, the very thought of throwing my own child away _infuriated_ me beyond reason. Harley looked like she was getting ready to say something but before she could the Batmobile smashed through a wall, sending debris flying.

I easily knocked anything coming towards me and JJ out of the air with my whip but Joker and Harley were showered with flying bricks. Which I was a little smug about. Leon and Roy smashed through one of the upper windows a split second later, probably coming from the roof and immediately ran over to monitor JJ, allowing me to charge forward and engage Harley. Batman was already fighting Joker but I couldn't afford to watch.

Harley was strong. Stronger than your average human. And her stupid hammer had a very long reach, not to mention that it was too heavy for me to effectively redirect with my whip. So I switched to my claws. Once I got inside her range, there wasn't much Harley could do. She was no expert on hand-to-hand combat, whereas I most certainly was. That's what happens when you train with Bru-_Batman_ on the weekends.

"Give up Harley, you've already lost!" I hissed angrily, "You and the Joker are going right back to Arkham!"

"Don'tchu badmouth Mistah J!" She shouted. "He's ah very lovin' husband!"

"And you're both terrible parents!" I raged, clawing across her stomach as she leapt back, releasing her hammer to make it easier to dodge. "And you will _never_ come near my nephew again!"

"No shit," Leon's voice cut in, his whip snaking out and wrapping around her ankle as she cartwheeled backwards, forcing her to faceplant on the concrete. I leapt on top of her, digging my heels in next to her spine. "Nobody hurts _my_ baby cousin and gets away with it!"

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Joker get hit by an explosion of red foam, trapping his limbs and burying him completely.

Robin and Kid Flash had taken over guarding JJ, Dick obviously trying to administer first aid and Wally bristling all over, almost wishing there was someone here left to fight just to get rid of his obvious frustration and anger. Batman came over and clicked some durable looking handcuffs onto Harley's wrists behind her back as I stepped off of her.

"I'll handle the police transfer," I offered, "You get him to medical."

"They'll arrest you," he reminded me. Like I didn't know that.

I waved him off. "They'll try. Everyone on the force loves JJ, not that he realizes that he's got them wrapped around his finger. You just get him safe and get him healthy again, take the boys with you- they'll just worry if you leave them here."

He nodded professionally and moved away, subtly squeezing my hand as he stepped away. He'd visit me in Arkham later, once I'd been fully arrested and he hand news on JJ's condition. I watched as my boys left and the police finally rolled up. I kicked Harley in the head one more time - just to be on the safe side.

Commissioner Gordon got out of his car. "Uh, Catwoman?" he asked, apparently thrown by the fact that it was _me_ standing over the bodies of a bunch of crooks and that I was _staying_. Like I'd leave even the _slightest_ opportunity for them to escape. I kicked Harley's head again. "What happened?"

I scowled at him. "These two clowns crossed the line," I stated, displeasure rolling off me in waves. "They hurt JJ."

His eyes widened in concern. I understood. JJ was everyone's favorite nephew. He never realized how… endearing he was. But everyone loved him anyway. How could we not? "He gonna be okay?" Gordon asked.

I sighed. "I dunno, Jim," I admitted. "Batman's got him and they're headed to the Batcave but… I dunno."

I noticed one of the officers murmuring a prayer, presumably for JJ's sake. I mused quietly to myself on whether or not a prayer for the son of the devil would have the same effect, then dismissed it. The son was innocent of the sins of the father, surely everyone knew that. Or rather, I hoped.

* * *

-Kid Flash/Wally POV-

We were just wrapping up the fight with Mr. Twister (and wasn't that a stupid name?) when the alarm went off. "_AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER! AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER! AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER!_"

"What's that?" Superboy asked, frowning, obviously not liking the message he was hearing.

Robin ignored him. "Miss M! How fast can the Bioship get back to the Cave?" he asked hurriedly.

"About a minute if we push it," she responded promptly, already flying over to get into place for steering.

"It's faster if we run," I argued, already grabbing Robin, scooping him up in my arms and sprinting top-speed to Gotham, in the direction of JJ's distress beacon. Robin squeezed his eyes shut and curled into my chest slightly to spare himself from the wind but I didn't take notice. We had to get to JJ in time. JJ had saved me. He got me out of my dad's house and now I live with Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris and it's the greatest thing that ever happened to me, even over the day I got my Speedster powers (though that day is eliminated mostly just because it hurt like hell getting them). I know he doesn't see it the same way but I _owe_ him for that. And aside from oweing him he's my _friend_ and I _do not want him to die_! I carefully blocked out the fact that he was going to meet his mom when the alarm went off. I didn't want to think about what that implied. I was already angry enough as it was.

When we got there, I was physically exhausted. I'd never run so far so fast while carrying someone before and my muscles were ready to give out, not to mention the way my stomach was twisting itself in its demands for food. My body obviously wasn't ready for that type of sudden energy drop but I ignored it.

Because JJ was on the ground. He was on the ground and he was bleeding and he wasn't moving and _please don't be dead_ and _what if I wasn't fast enough_ and _JJ's __got_ _to be okay!_ Catwoman and Leon were kicking Harley's ass and Batman and Red Arrow (I still wasn't used to calling him that) had already taken out the Joker. My heart squeezed thinking how JJ would normally be bragging about how he managed to dye the polyurethane foam red, but couldn't. _No_. Being scared/worried/anxious wasn't helping. The easiest (and most effective) way to handle this was get angry. Get angry and then filter that anger through my brain. It's the best way I've found to handle a stressful situation.

Rob immediately started medical treatment, seeing as I didn't know any there wasn't much I could do. "How is he?" I asked him, not turning away from the last of the fighting.

Robin pulled out the emergency transmitter and switched it to broadcast radio mode. JJ designed the thing. Of course there was a mode where he could choose to simply talk and explain what was going wrong. The silent alarm was only silent on his end, everyone else would hear his pre-recorded message on repeat. Now that it'd been switched though, the other transmitters, which hadn't been registered as pre-informed, would be picking up on the audio around us.

"Alright you guys I'm seeing bullet wounds to the leg and shoulder, broken ribs, probable concussion, at least one deliberate cut on his collarbone, and I think he's in shock," Robin reported as calmly as he could manage. I could still hear the fear shaking behind his voice, but perhaps that's just because I've known him so long. He continued rambling about things I didn't quite understand and was too hyped up on adrenaline to pay attention to, keeping the rest of the team back at the Cave (of Badassery) informed.

"Dammit JJ," I whispered, "please be okay."

* * *

-Superboy POV-

"Where are they?!" I demanded angrily, pacing uselessly in the Cave- no, we were calling it the Cave of Badassery now since JJ insisted. Even if it seemed like a stupid name. I was still trying to decide if JJ was a genius of if he was just stupid. Speaking of JJ… "And how do we turn this stupid alarm off?!"

The alarm had been going off for about six minutes now. "_AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER! AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER! AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER!_" Over and over and over again. It was not helping.

"Superboy, there is nothing we can do from here. Getting worked up won't change anything" Kaldur stated, but his usual calm was absent. I knew he was frustrated and angry and worried the same as I was, he was just hiding it better, but what was the point of doing that? If this was how I felt then why shouldn't I embrace that? After all, anger was a better reaction than fear. Weapons weren't meant to feel afraid.

"_AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER! AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER! AAAGH! JJ'S IN DANGER!_"

"THAN WHY DON'T YOU TELL US WHAT WE'RE SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT IT, YOU STUPID MACHINE?!" I raged directionlessly. If this voice weren't coming from speakers in all directions scattered through the entire Cave of Badassery, I'm sure I would have punched it by now.

"Superboy, Kaldur, they're going to be okay, right?" M'gann asked timidly, seeing reassurance. "I mean, they'll get to JJ in time?"

Aqualad and I exchanged glances. He'd been in the Atlantean military, and I'd been 'raised' as a weapon. Neither of us was very sure of our ability to offer what we knew could all too easily be false reassurances. We both knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was a very real possibility JJ could die or might even already be dead. Neither of us wanted to tell M'gann that though.

Suddenly Robin's voice replaced the constant and repetitive screaming. I nearly sighed in relief. "Alright you guys I'm seeing bullet wounds to the leg and shoulder, broken ribs, probable concussion, at least one deliberate cut on his collarbone, and I think he's in shock," Robin reported calmly, almost clinically. "The blood loss isn't helping any. I'll work on stopping the bleeding first and then we'll be getting him to the Batcave. That's the nearest location with adequate medical facilities without the use of a Zeta, and there's no risking it in his condition. We're not taking that chance."

"Oh no," M'gann whispered, hand over her mouth.

Inside I was growling. Someone had hurt my teammate. Someone had hurt a person under my protection. And _I wasn't there_. But the only people here were M'gann and Kaldur so I could hardly take my anger out on them. There wasn't anything I _could_ do.

"Batman, we're gonna have to move him to medical ASAP, I don't like the look of these ribs though so be careful and no sharp corners." Robin's voice continued.

"Get him in the back," Batman ordered. "You and Kid Flash are going to be set to hold him. Red Arrow, TomCat, both of you will have to make your way there on your own. I'll drive."

"He always drives," Wally muttered, "Was that even in question?"

We listened to them mutter to themselves and listened to JJ alternately grunting and groaning quietly for a bit as they maneuvered our injured teammate into the Batmobile. "We're off," Robin reported. "Batman, is it okay for me to authorize the rest of the team to enter the Batcave so they can be there to meet us?"

My heart leapt a little at the thought. I really wanted to be there, even if I couldn't do anything just yet. JJ was the one who really made me feel… accepted. And useful. I would protect all of my teammates but JJ needed it the most being the youngest and the smallest and the most vulnerable. JJ would not get hurt again. I wouldn't let him.

"Superboy?" Kaldur asked, breaking me out of my revive. "We're moving to the Batcave so we'll be able to see JJ when he wakes up. Batman won't let us see him until then."

Had I really been unaware of my surroundings for that long? "Yeah, let's go." I wanted to see JJ.

* * *

-Leon Kyle/TomCat POV-

I have never been so terrified in my entire life. And there was nothing more that I could do, given the circumstances. JJ was already in medical and I couldn't help with that if I wanted to. Batman had kicked us all out anyway. There was nothing more we could be _allowed _to do. As tempting as it was to go out and assassinate Joker and Harley, I knew JJ wouldn't really appreciate us killing his parents, however loosely that term applied.

My hands were shaking when I looked at them - from anger, fear or exhaustion I couldn't quite tell. I think the rest of me may have been shaking too. I wasn't sure.

JJ had been the one… the only one… or rather, the first one ever… to threat me like a real person instead of… what I used to be. He was the one who _really_ rescued me. JJ was not the one who got me out, but he was the one who pulled me up. He introduced me to my mother. If I'd never met JJ… I would either have died out there on the streets of Gotham or gone down the wrong path - or, well, the wrong_er_ path. I was still technically a supervillain, just of the nicer variety. And I was scared. JJ was the one who _gave_ me morals and ideals and wishes and family. I had to worry that if he was dead (_ohgodpleaseno_) he would take that away with him.

"Are you okay?" _That's Roy's voice_, I realized, turning to look and seeing his hand on my shoulder too. _When did that get there?_ "You don't look okay," he murmured to me, obviously concerned. I couldn't tell if it was for me or for JJ. I told myself it didn't matter.

"Is JJ gonna be okay?" I whispered, terrified of the answer.

Roy's jaw tightened. But he didn't like to me or give me potentially false reassurances. I was glad for that. He just pulled me close and tucked my head under his, I felt my ears pin back timidly as I rubbed my head against his chin for comfort but ignored how submissive the gesture was. Any other time I _would_ have taken advantage of how close this position made us. This wasn't any other time.

I sincerely hoped that Roy's vest was thick enough that he couldn't feel any wetness through the fabric… Then again, JJ designed the new Red Arrow vest. Of course it was waterproof. And bullet proof. Because JJ cared about his friends.

Did he know how much his friends cared about him in return? Knowing him, probably not. And he wouldn't find out if he never woke up again.

* * *

-Roy Harper/Red Arrow POV-

TomCat was crying. _Leon_ was crying. I knew he was. He was also getting tears (and possibly snot) on my new vest but that was okay. JJ designed it so there was no way it would stain or anything. That wasn't really what my mind was focused on anyway.

In all the time I'd known him, TomCat had never shown weakness. He'd never been vulnerable - wouldn't let himself. Even when injured, he was still ready to fight at moment's notice and still exude that aura of calm and predatory control that all cats seem to have in abundance. Now though…

JJ had told me Leon's story. Project CAT and what it did to him. He gave me the edited, shorter version of the story which made me think that there was more to it and what he left out was much worse that what I _had_ been told. And JJ told me because he was trying to protect his friend. JJ, this teeny-tiny, scrawny little beanpole of a kid, who'd been every younger at the time, had been trying to protect _the_ TomCat, thief extraordinaire and a federally registered supervillain. I hadn't understood why that protection could possibly be needed.

Now I did. For all that TomCat was stronger and older, here relied on JJ just as much as JJ relied on him. And I wasn't sure what to do without either of them.

* * *

**Yeah, so I managed not to update for 4 weeks... sorry. I'm sporadic like that. I'd promise to make it up to you, but I'm lazy like this and probably won't. Sorry. On the upside: BEHOLD! A CHAPTER!**


	6. Someone to Trust

**WARNINGS: Self-harm, evil science-y experimentation on children (child, whatever) and I think that's it.**

* * *

-JJ POV-

Waking up after a beating is, in general, an unpleasant experience. This time… well, it could've been worse. My body didn't hurt as much as it ought to. I was probably on medication and definitely in a bed. And there were people there. I could recognize their voices.

"Are you sure he's going to be okay?" Sylvester. That worrywart.

"For the last time, yes," Hoodie exclaimed, clearly exasperated and trying to keep the fondness out of his tone. _He thinks I don't know how he feels about my stupid cousin. Heh_. "Batman said JJ would be fine and he'll wake up when he wakes up. We've got nothing to worry about."

"Red Arrow's right," Dickiebird announced firmly. "If Batman says he'll be okay, then he's going to be okay."

"I would still feel a lot better if he'd wake up though," Racer muttered petulantly.

_Geez, how many people are in my sick room?_ I wondered. It seemed like overkill, especially for little old me.

"You can stop faking, JJ," Superboy cut in. "I can hear your heartbeat. I know you're awake."

I felt a smile at the corner of my lips. "Nah 'm naht," I mumbled happily, surprised at how scratchy my voice sounded. "'M st'll sleepin'. Axk me 'gain later."

"JJ!" TomCat was hugging me, very gently. More like, he was holding his body about half an inch over mine and nuzzling the side of my head fondly. His ears tickled. "You're okay! I was so worried! Do you hurt anywhere? Can I get you anything? Are you okay?"

I gave Hoodie a significant look over the idiot's shoulder. It was a look that said 'get him off/I'm fine/like hell I'm dealing with this shit' simultaneously. "Let the kid breathe, TomCat," he scolded. "He only just woke up. That being said, how _are_ you feeling, JJ? Because you look like you've been through a ringer."

I sighed. "I'm fine," I told them. "I've had worse actually."

Hoodie gave me a look. Yeah. He wasn't buying it. But he wasn't pushing the matter either. I guess he figured I wasn't talking about it in a room full of people. He was right.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Miss Martian smiled at me from the foot of the bed.

"I GOTIT!" I realized. "Marvin! Yer Marvin now. 'S Perfect!"

Marvin was confused. "Uh… what?"

Sylvester grinned at her. "Another Looney Tunes, huh? Well, welcome to the family," he greeted, throwing an arm around her. "Though I'm surprised it took him this long to come up with the name for you. I had mine within minutes."

Superboy frowned. "I don't understand." And he clearly didn't like that fact either.

Dickiebird just shrugged. "JJ doesn't call anybody by their real names unless… actually, pretty much ever. To him, I'm Dickiebird, Wally's Racer, Kaldur is Gills, Red Arrow is Hoodling-"

"Hood_ie_," I corrected quickly. "'E got upgraded. An' Little John is Fat Fryer now too."

"Serves the cockblocker right," Sylvester muttered. "I'm Sylvester. Fat Fryer is Green Arrow. Bossy B is Batman. Mr. Underewar is Superman (they don't get along). And the rest you can figure out as you go."

"Oh, okay." he agreed. "Why?"

"Uh…" Racer trailed off.

I'd never told anyone why. They just kind of rolled with it. _Why question the crazy guy, right?_ I shoved that thought down. It wasn't that people dismissed me because I was crazy, they just didn't know how to deal with it sometimes and sorta ended up scooting around the subject whenever it reared its ugly head. It wasn't that they looked down on me or anything for something I can't control. They weren't like that, it just felt like it sometimes. None of them were.

"The names'r important. 'Ey make people mine. Show 'ow Ah think of 'em. Good names fer good people, sucktstic names fer assholes. Shows Ah care 'n shit. Names c'n make a thing, sometimes. 'M nah givin' yer own yet a'cause yeh don' 'ave a real one picked yet. 'M not namin' you for yeh." I didn't need to switch to a more serious personality to deal with this conversation. This was something I understood easily. I could do it without thinking, like inventing. I could explain it without forcing myself to take it seriously. It wasn't a problem.

As closely as I can figure, I've only got three personalities. I say 'only' because my dad- because the Joker has tons more than me. There's regular me, serious me and the me that takes over when I have an episode. Then again, maybe he's an identity instead of a personality? Wouldn't that be interesting? A person with both Multiple Personality Disorder and Dissociative Identity Disorder? Fascinating. From the outside. Not so much fun being me, now is it?

Everyone was looking at me funny. "Huh?"

"I asked if you were okay and if you needed anything?" Dickiebird clarified, long since accustomed to my space-outs. Racer called them brain-hiccups. I liked his name for them better.

"'M good," I assured them. "Wha' 'appened ter my- What happened to the Joker and Harley?" I switched. I didn't trust myself not to.

"In Arkham. They're gone," Dickiebird promised soothingly. I allowed myself to feel a bit better about that, despite knowing that they wouldn't stay there forever. A few months maybe. I could hope. I _did_ hope.

"Alright," I agreed. "Since you guys know I'm up and all, would you mind letting me have some breathing room? There's too many people in here and I could use some actual sleep instead of that mini-coma or whatever. I'm exhausted."

Marvin looked ready to object but Gills cut her off with a hand on her shoulder. "We'd be glad to let you rest, my friend. I'm glad you're doing better. Call us if you need anything."

I nodded, watching him steer the brunet out of the room. Racer and Dickiebird followed, joking with each other playfully and bumping shoulders. Hoodie peeled Sylvester off of me and out of the room, saying he wouldn't be back soon since he had a mission - something about Lex Luthor and some sort of rare alien metal that he had to take care of while Sylvester would be distracted visiting his mom. That left Superboy.

"Go on," I gestured to the door.

He blinked at me. Obviously he had something to say. So I waited for him to say it. It wasn't that Superboy was being shy or hesitant or anything. That would be weird. He just wasn't sure how to articulate things just yet, being rather young and all, so certain ideas took him a while. I was patient. When it comes to people I liked, I can be patient.

"You're waiting for me to name myself," he stated.

"Yeah."

"You wanted me to make my own choices from the very beginning, even back a Cadmus where it might have cost you your life."

"Yeah."

"You thanked me for helping you."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Tabula Rasa," I stated simply before elaborating. "A blank slate. You're nobody yet, so you can choose to be anybody. I would slaughter cities for that chance. So I'm not letting anybody take it away from you. You're going to be your own person, dammit. Not Superman. Not Cadmus. Not Justice League. Not even Superboy unless you want to be. You don't even have a name yet. Everything's still on the table. You could be the worst supervillain or the greatest superhero the world has ever known, or you could be perfectly normal and act like everyone else. You look normal. There are few I wouldn't kill to be like you. You should do what you want, not what's asked of you or what you're told you have to be."

Superboy stopped to consider that. "You want to be normal." It wasn't a question.

I looked away. "I'm insane. My hair's green. I hurt people when left to my own devices. I can't be normal." And it ached to say that, no matter how true. Or maybe it hurt so much because it was true?

"I have superpowers too," he pointed out.

"You don't have to use them. You've got no responsibility to anyone. Once you've got control, if you wish, you can be on your merry way and leave us."

"I don't want to leave you, any of you," he argued, suddenly angry? Protective? I couldn't identify the emotion… "You're my team and I'm not letting you get hurt again."

I started at him. "If that's what you want."

"It is."

"Good. I like having you around." I smiled at him. One of my few, heartfelt smiles I get to use when I feel I've done something right. "Now scram. I need to rest."

* * *

-Superboy POV-

JJ didn't ask me to leave so he could sleep. He did it so he could cry. Nobody else seemed to realize this however. Or at least, nobody else seemed inclined to do anything about it. Robin and Wally kept glancing at the hallway that lead towards the infirmary with concern on their faces, like they knew something was wrong but didn't get up. I took my cue from them. They were JJ's friends first. They probably knew he was crying, or at least suspected. The only reason I knew was because I could hear him. The bedrooms and main rooms were largely soundproof, including the infirmary, but when I concentrated I could hear through them anyway.

JJ was definitely crying. After the way Robin and Wally had explained the situation with his father (including some very scathing interjections from TomCat and pointed scowles from Red Arrow) I wasn't surprised that JJ was having an emotional breakdown. He deserved it. His own mother had tried to kill him and very nearly succeeded. His father too. And he had just discovered that his parents didn't love him. I was willing to give him some space.

Until I smelt blood.

"I'm going to go check on him," I informed the others abruptly, already standing to leave.

"JJ asked for space," Robin said frowning, obviously unsure if he should stop or encourage me to go.

"I'll leave if he asks," I briskly lied over my shoulder, fighting against the instinct to run to JJ's side. Nobody followed me.

JJ had scratches on his forearm that weren't there when I left. They were in the shape of nail marks. And he was sobbing uncontrollably.

Let me make one thing perfectly clear: I do not know how to deal with crying people of any kind. I have been self-aware and out of my pod for about fourteen days now, including the two where nobody did anything but worry about whether or not JJ would wake up. **(AN: In canon, the events of Santa Prisca happened the day after Happy Harbor. I give no craps about the canon timeline. I already told you, there will be flashbacks and junk. What would possibly make you think that I wouldn't just add extra days whenever I felt like it? Because I will. And you probably don't care either so why the hell am I being so defensive? Because I'm a perfectionist that's why! Back off!) **This amounts to _zero_ experience with crying people and Cadmus did not see fit to teach me what to do in this sort of situation. So I improvised.

I started with the scratching, because JJ was still doing it. Grabbing his wrists (gently, he was human and by that extent, relatively fragile) and holding them together with one hand, I checked the damage. Superficial. Surface wounds. No lasting damage. Apparently he'd inherited a sleight healing boost from one or both of his parents (I wasn't exactly sure what whichever chemicals did whatever to which of them) and that's why he was able to wake up so quickly. Any normal person would be in a coma for months, if they woke up at all. It wasn't like I could see the wounds closing or anything, I just took comfort in the fact that he'd probably be perfectly fine even if I didn't bandage him. Which was good, because not only did I not know how but I was also pretty sure JJ wouldn't be asking for help anytime soon.

Actually, JJ probably wouldn't be forming coherent sentences anytime soon. He was sobbing too hard. Deep, loud sobbs that sounded wet and gaspy, like he had been crying too hard for too long and while he wasn't running out of steam anytime soon, he was starting to run out of breath to keep going. Have I mentioned that I'm not good with emotions? Because I'm not. At all.

I patted JJ on the head uncertainty, ruffling his hair. "Hey there, JJ," I asked, "stop crying. You're starting to hyperventilate and that's not good for you. You'll get a headache. And you're already injured." I'd like to point out that I have since then gotten better at dealing with crying people. I just didn't know what I was doing and I'd never seen anyone crying or being comforted before. "You need to calm down." JJ was not calming down. "Uh, please?" If anything he was doing the opposite of calming down.

So I hugged him. Gently. He already had a collection of cracked, fractured and broken ribs thanks to his father, not to mention the bullet wound in his shoulder and I really didn't want to add to that. He struggled a bit before realizing who I was. I'm not sure he even realized I was there before that.

The sobbs choked themselves out pretty quickly. There was a _very_ wet sounding snort as JJ tried to suck all his snot back up into his nose. Pulling back from the hug I could see that he mostly failed.

"Superboy?" he asked weakly. "Whad're you doin' 'ere?" He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and had significantly more success.

"You were scratching yourself," I told him. "I smelt the blood."

JJ looked down at his arm in surprise. "Oh." He blushed and looked away, obviously ashamed. "Thanks." Even quieter he mumbled, "'M sorry."

"I told you earlier that you're my team and I'm not letting you get hurt again. I'm not letting you hurt yourself either."

"I dinnah mean tah. Jus' 'appens s'mtimes when 'm nah thinkin' straight." JJ still wouldn't meet my eyes. "'S fine. 'M okay."

"How often does this happen?" I asked, concerned. How hard would I need to work to protect JJ from himself? And how long had Robin and Kidflash been doing it without anyone else's help? And how much had they succeeded?

"How often does me crazy act up ya mean?" he was joking slightly but not really. JJ obviously didn't want to answer but did it anyway. I was glad I didn't have to pressure him or go behind his back to find out. I was willing to if it meant protecting JJ but I didn't want to have to do that to him. "Depends. Don' hurt meself much. Voices come 'n go a couple days atta time. See things sumtimes when 's real bad. I ferget things ah do or 'ow Ah got places e'ry few weeks. If ahm stressed 'r scared 'r ah see ter much blood n' things Ah'll have 'n episode, buh those usually gotta be set off by summat. Dickiebird says s'mtimes Ah just sit still fer long times buh 'M not so sure. Think as it."

"And hurting yourself?"

"When 'M in an episode an ner's nobody else ter 'urt," he dismissed sullenly, "Ur when ner's too much 'appenin' inside 'n Aye gotta get it out. Not usually."

I was partially relieved that it was uncommon but still mostly pissed that it happened ever. I really wanted to punch JJ's parents. They should have been helping him with this. They were the same types of crazy and they didn't hurt themselves. They must have figured it out and then not told JJ how to deal with it. Those bastards.

But saying that wouldn't help JJ now. Neither would me being pissed on his behalf. JJ needed me to help him. He didn't need me getting mad and trashing whatever got in my way. I needed more control than that. I'd get to smash Joker's face in some other time. Repeatedly. But for now, I needed to control my temper.

"Are you going to be okay now?" I asked him finally.

JJ just shrugged. ""M crazy. 'Ll ne'er be okay with 'at. Buh yeah. 'M done hurtin' o'er meh biological donors. 'M okay."

I looked him in the eyes. He seemed sincere. "If you say so." I told him. "I'll trust you on this."

* * *

-Talon POV-

I don't remember a time before. I've always been here. In the lab. Always. I suppose it didn't really matter, but I thought it might. If I had memories of a time before - a time with sunlight or street signs or people who didn't wear labcoats - things might have been different. I'm not sure if they would have been better or worse actually. Just different.

All I've ever seen are white walls and tile floors, metal bracers and mirrors which I always know when they're watching me through. I was taught to read. To write. I'm not sure why they taught me these things other than to verify that I was smart enough to learn them. Because my purpose did not involve reading or writing. My purpose was uglier than that. By far.

I am a clone. I'm not sure which number, but I _think_ we're talking pre-double digits here. Nobody tells me these things obviously. But I do know that they want the optimal warrior. Best of everything: fighting, healing, strength, speed, flexibility, endurance, _everything_. The ones who came before me? They failed. They weren't the end result. They were terminated and improved upon. I am that improvement. I know that I'm not the end result either. My purpose is to fight with everything I have and, eventually, when they can learn no more from me, to die. They wanted my everything, including my life.

And yeah, there was a time I seriously considered giving it to them: my loyalty, my life. But… and I'm not entirely sure what it was that lead me to make this decision… I didn't want to. I mean… sure, they were they were the ones who put a lot of time and money into creating me and even keeping me alive but… that didn't mean much to me. Not when I knew what they wanted from me. They wanted a weapon. A killer. A monster. And I didn't want to be. I might not know what I do want but I know what I don't. I don't want to give in.

"Project Talon?" one of the doctors asked. I didn't care which one.

"Yes sir?" I replied blandly.

"Stand up," he ordered. There was no question that I might revolt. I had nothing to gain from doing such a thing. "We're testing your range of movement."

"Yes sir," I replied.

And I obeyed as they asked me to lift my arms and stand on one foot and bend over and move joints in circles. After all, I needed to check my range of movement too. I needed took now how far my body could go. I wasn't sure why, but I knew I wanted to be strong. Maybe that was just the brainwashing though. I couldn't be sure what was me and what was programed into me.

I had long since resolved myself to escape if the opportunity ever came. There was nothing to gain from staying here and worst case scenario, they'd kill me. They were planning to kill me anyway. The opportunity never came. I knew better than to try and break out without a plan. I wasn't stupid. I just wasn't smart enough to actually come up with said plan. So I stayed. And waited for an opportunity. I had to keep my sanity somehow. I followed their routines and let them tell me what to do. There was no way to keep track of time properly, but I assumed that a lot had passed since I was cloned though I wasn't sure. I had built up muscle mass surprisingly quickly… or maybe it wasn't fast and my estimation of time was off… I couldn't tell. It didn't really matter anyways.

The tests I always submitted to. And the exercises. And the training. I wanted to be healthy and strong. I wanted to be able to fight. I wanted all of that. But the rest of it? Now that I did not submit to willingly. Not the experiments. And not the examinations. Those I did not like.

Experiments weren't as bad as the examinations. Just from the name you'd think it would be the other way around, right? You'd be wrong. Experiments… yeah. There were a bunch of them. How much electrical voltage can he take? How hot? How cold? How much weight can he hold over his head before it collapses on top of him? How long? Is he resistant to magic? What kinds? How long can he hold his breath? Just _how quickly _and _how much damage_ can he heal? I don't know how many times my heart physically stopped because of these experiments, but I know that if I were human, I would have died. Hell, if I were human I don't think they would have bothered keeping me in the first place. They didn't want a human. They wanted a weapon.

Which was also the reason for the examinations. Since they knew I wasn't even partially human, they wanted to know more about my physiology. X-rays and MRIs were pointless at best what with how much of me was made of metal. So… because I could heal from it and because they were curious… I got cut open from time to time. I can now confirm that my innards are extremely similar to a human's. My spine is the same too. My wings aren't directly attached to it. They contain thirteen major blood vessels. Each of which was been mapped out. Thoroughly. With a scalpel. And then checked again to see if the location changed when I healed. Twice. My feathers couldn't be cut through though since they were much too hard, so I had to be plucked to see where they were.

And then in the process of _that_ they somehow realized that most of my abilities, like my strength, my healing and (shocker there) my flight came from my feathers. And they started experimenting with my feathers. Which meant they needed to pull more out.

Let's just say I started to wish I didn't have wings.

* * *

-Red Arrow/Roy POV-

Someone was supplying Lex Luthor with nth metal. **(AN: Nth metal, or ninth metal, is a real thing and the properties described are real.) **Granted, that's not as bad as someone supplying Lex Luthor with kryptonite… but it's still not ideal. I mean, who would like the idea of Luthor armed with metal that lets you defy gravity, heal and get super strong? It's bad enough the guy's already smart.

I'd tracked the supplier to a lab outside DC. Shockingly close to where Cadmus used to be but I shrugged it off. Maybe there was just something about this district that screamed 'evil science buildings go here' or something. I wouldn't know. I'm not an evil scientist. Maybe I'd ask JJ when I got the chance since he was awake again.

Sneaking in was surprisingly easy, probably because it was a research facility and not a military compound. That's not to say there wasn't security. But… the more I looked the more confused I got. Security didn't seem centered around keeping people out so much as… keeping something in. _Don't tell me there's some sort of evil monster locked up in here. If there's a small army of Blockbusters in here I might have a problem._ Still, I wasn't calling for backup from the Team if I hadn't found anything yet, and I certainly wasn't backing down.

What I found wasn't what I was expecting. Not at all.

"You look kind of familiar… have we met somehow?" he asked.

"No. I would definitely remember if we had. Definitely." _Mostly because you've got freakin __wings_ _made of freakin __metal_ _sticking out of your freaking __back__._ They looked heavy, not like they were too big for him but like they weighed more than they were supposed to. They hung almost listlessly as he hung suspended from his wrists. Brown hair, cropped short like they'd buzzed it off recently. Blue eyes with more intensity than I'd bargain on from a kid who looked no more than, what? Nine years old? He was tiny an so very _young_.

"Are you… a clone of Hawkman or something?" I asked uncertainty. It seemed likely. I mean, that's what Superboy was to Superman. And he looked like a younger Hawkman only… his wings were made of metal. _Is that… nth metal?! __He's_ _the supplier?! This changes everything!_

"Despite appearances, no. I am not _his_ clone. Not exactly," he replied frankly. "I take it then that you're not here to train me… how did you find me?"

"There was a rumor going around about someone supplying Lex Luthor with nth metal," I explained, "I came to check that out."

"Well, that would be me," the boy (and he was a boy, too young for this, too much like TomCat) shrugged. The effort lifted his whole body slightly from where he hung suspended by his wrists. "Are you going to assassinate me or rescue me?" he asked, sounding not the least bit afraid of dying. "Either way is fine really, though I would prefer to live a little longer just on principle. Whichever it is, could you stop staring? It's making me edgy."

"I, uh, yeah, right," I agreed dumbly. _What's with this kid?_ "What's your name?" I asked, scanning the control panel for a 'release' button or something like that.

"They call me Project Talon," he informed me casually. "I haven't picked a real name yet. Those seem important and I wanted to have a good one. I need outside input for that so I'm still waiting on it."

I nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. My name's Red Arrow." I found the button and he didn't fall to the floor but glided gently. _Right, wings, got it_. "Can you fight?" I asked.

Talon nodded. "They taught me. Do you have an escape plan?"

"Yeah: escape."

"That's it?" he stammered. I nodded. "That's all it takes? Why didn't I think of that…?"

"You coming or not?" I asked, already at the door, arrow nocked and ready to go.

"Lead the way."

* * *

-Talon POV-

Now I know why I was waiting for a better plan that just 'escape'. Because Red Arrow made shitty plans. Especially when people like Deathstroke just _happen_ to be touring the facilities; or maybe he was there to train me, I'll never know. Maybe Red Arrow just has shitty luck, not shitty planning skills because Deathstroke's really the only reason things were going to hell. Or maybe it was my luck? Probably mine. Red Arrow had no problem on the way in after all.

Speaking of Red Arrow, the poor guy was unconscious, and I doubt he could shoot with a throwing knife through his hand even if he _were_ awake. They were going to catch us. I was absolutely certain. _Deathstroke_ was going to catch us. Which would be bad. While I could carry Red Arrow easily enough, I couldn't do it while being stealthy enough to get away. I'd get us both caught and him killed. That's not how I repay the man who got me out of hell.

I took a deep breath. "Right then," I decided. "I hate my plan." I yanked out a feather, barely flinching. Some pains you just became accustomed to over time. Carefully, I yanked out the throwing knife from Red Arrow's injured hand before gently wrapping it around the feather. It should help him heal and hopefully send him the right message. "Good luck my friend," I whispered. "We're both going to need it."

I flew away, headed in the opposite direction, away from the city. Away from Red Arrow. Away from _my_ best chance of getting away.

"Oi, morons!" I shouted, putting as much false bravado in my voice as I could muster, "I hate each and every one of you! And if you ever dissect anyone again I'm coming back here with a knife, lots of itching powder, and a sewing kit!" They didn't like that suggestion and started shooting at me with machine guns. "Well that worked," I observed, shielding myself with a wing. "What was step two again?" I heard an RPG fire. "Right! Flying away now! Really fast!"

Something I can attest to: Sometimes, even shitty plans work. At least until Deathstroke catches up to you. Then you're fucking screwed. Fucking _Deathstroke_ man. Fucking Deathstroke.

* * *

**Oh hey, by the way, is anyone having issues reading what JJ says sometimes? I think it's pretty straightforward but I'm the one writing it so… yeah. I just want to make sure you don't feel like you're decoding pig latin every time he opens his mouth, you know? **


	7. One Great Big Happy Family

**WARNINGS: Uhm… not much… Lex Luthor feels? Does that count? Other than that nothing we haven't seen before. Talon's got a potty mouth, but so does JJ so I think we're in the clear here. **

* * *

-Superboy POV-

"So is it okay?" JJ asked, beaming up at me. He'd been subjected to an electric powered wheelchair, a sling, and a lot of bandages before they let him out of the infirmary. He'd been displeased and reluctant but accepted, eager to get back to his lab so he could work on… whatever it was that JJ worked on in there. I wasn't sure what it was.

"Uh… is what okay?" I asked. He just sort of wandered up and asked me. Was I expected to know what he was talking about?

JJ frowned pretty hard at that. "Did I not talk about this?"

"No, talk about what?" I wondered. JJ _had_ mentioned that his mind skipped things sometimes and that his memory wasn't very reliable… apparently this was part of it.

"I wanna look at your DNA. Yer a clone, right? So I wanna see what Kryptonian DNA looks like and I wanna check that nobody fucked anything up making you, just in case. Ah mean, messing with people's DNA is dangerous. It can go really, _really_ wrong. Jus' look at me. Both meh parents got doused 'n various chemicals, and things just sorta went downhill from there. Nah to psych you out or anythin', but ih seems like a good idea."

The way JJ explained it, it seemed like a perfectly logical concern. I didn't know what Cadmus had done to me, and as much as it made me uncomfortable, I had a right to know and an obligation to ensure that none of it would place my team in danger. Wally gave me the moon. Robin gave me my freedom. Kaldur gave me guidance. M'gann gave me kindness. JJ gave me the ability to choose. I _was_ going to find a way to pay them back for that. And I'd start by fighting beside them and protecting them with everything I have. Right after I had JJ make sure I wouldn't be a danger to them myself.

"Yeah, sure," I agreed, "Go for it. Do you need my blood or-"

"I couldn' make you bleed if I tried," JJ dismissed, "Yer saliva'll due."

The next second there was some sort of cue tip jabbed down my throat and JJ was whirring off to his lab, giggling happily. I wasn't sure how I hadn't seen him coming, how he'd reached my head and manhandled me when I was so much bigger and taller than him and he only had one arm or why he was so excited about my spit. Listening to his heartbeat he didn't _sound_ like he was going to have an episode, just like he was happy. I decided to inform Wally and Robin that he was giggling excessively anyway. Better safe than sorry. The more people I had helping me protect JJ from himself the better.

* * *

-JJ POV-

I glared at the screen, absolutely certain that it was lying to me. I tried again and got the same results. _Holy shit those are real_. So I did the natural thing. I screamed at the top of my lungs.

"AAAAGGGGHHHH! I'M FUCKING PSYCHIC! I'M SO SORRY! I JINXED IT!" I stopped screaming, not sure what to say. Deciding I was still freaking out though, I screamed again. "AAAGGGHHH!"

Racer was right next to me. "JJ, what's wrong?" he asked urgently, "Why are you screaming?" I pointed him at the screen so he could understand the magnitude of what I'd just discovered. "... You know I'm a chemist not… I think I'm looking at biology here?" Or not.

I smacked myself in the face. Racer _was_ a good chemist and had a decent grasp of the rest of the major sciences, but obviously not advanced neo-genetics. Which made him pretty useless here. The rest of the team had more or less assembled in the doorway, Marvin flying in over their heads to hover over my other table, the one covered in robotics. "Don't touch that," I warned her. Most of it was me trying to make a lightsaber so it was for her own good.

"JJ, what's happened?" Gills asked, frowning at me. "You were shouting a minute ago. We were worried."

I looked over his shoulder at a glowering Superboy. "Uh…" I hesitated. "It's your results," I told him, "Do you want me to… _not_ tell them or… I mean, um, it's your call." I didn't want to go blurting out what was really just his business, especially not when I was trying to get the guy practice making his own decisions.

Superboy hesitated. "It's fine," he decided momentarily, but with finality. "You can tell them."

I beamed at him, nodding to myself. "Secrets don't make friends." I agreed. "Dickiebird, do _you_ know what this says?" I asked him.

He frowned at the screen. "It's… DNA testing. Batman does them all the time. But… I don't see the readout of whose it is…"

Oh yeah. My brain's just like that. I'd hacked the batcave's files on DNA and memorized them. And by that, I mean I memorized everyone's DNA sequences. I didn't _need_ to plug the separated DNA strands back into the program to know whose they were. I forgot other people weren't like that.

"So, I wanted ta check your DNA," I explained to Superboy, "originally to make sure that they didn' fuck up with anything. I mean, to my knowledge, people 'ere on earth don' have much practice clonin' alien DNA so I wanted to make sure ya still had a healthy lifespan and everything, that you wouldn't up and die or develop problems later on or anythin' like that." I hesitated. "Turns out your fine. But only because you're not fully Kryptonian."

"I'm not fully…" Superboy trailed off, letting that sink in.

"No. An' I can tell why too. Lookin' at what they have of Kryptonian DNA, they'd have to be an idiot to try and make an entire person out of this. Physically you'd be mostly okay but mentally? Not so much. It would _not_ be pretty, especially with the pre-programed 'defeat Mr. Underwear' thing you had going for a bit there. So they basically filled the gaps in Kryptonian DNA wi' human, to keep you sane. It's not perfect, probably why yhe've still got occasional anger issues, but it'll keep you quite adequately functional. You'll age a tad slower externally 'n most humans, but I think that's probably fine. Your lifespan's still the same, you'll just age half as fast on the outside. Unfortunately your human DNA looks like it'll keep you from ever completely developin' your full powers, even though ya obviously have the genetic potential for it… I _think_ I can work with that but that's a project for another day. I also checked that ya have a belly button while I was at it. You do."

Superboy gave me a flat stare before lifting up his shirt and showing me his stomach. I huffed. I hadn't thought of that. I probably should have. It would have been easier.

"None of this explains why you freaked out though," Dickiebird noted snrewdly, expertly ignoring the belly button issue. "What's up, JJ?"

I glanced at Superboy again to see his nod of confirmation. _Well, if he's certain_…

I held up a finger and dragged the second DNA strand into a new program, one I never really bothered to use. It held a record of all the major DNA sequences Bossy B had catalogued over the years and who they belonged to. For the hell of it, I ran the original too. The results pinged up, with pictures and everything.

Mr. Underwear's face was up there. Right next to Lex Luthor's.

Racer yelped. Dickiebird cursed and muttered something about informing Bossy B. Gills looked completely stunned and took a half-step back from the screen in shock. Marvin seemed confused, obviously not recognizing Baldy for who he was. Superboy just frowned.

"So yeh're pretty much the love child of Baldy and Mr. Underwear," I informed him tactlessly. "An' I thought _my_ family was fucked up. Throw a little filicide in there an' I think we'd be tied." Admittedly, it was a joke in poor taste. My phone went off. I picked it up almost immediately. "Hoodie?"

* * *

-Red Arrow POV-

I woke up. That alone wasn't much of a surprises. I'm used to pulling though though situations, granted not usually against Deathstroke the Terminator, but still. In this business, you just sort of build up a resistance to surprise after a while. Waking up after an attack had long since stopped registering as a surprise. Waking up on the roof wasn't that weird either. But the fact that nobody was nearby was a clue that something was off. And my hand was uninjured. Deathstroke had sent a throwing knife through it earlier. This hand should definitely not be uninjured. My hand was also wrapped around a metal feather.

_Talon_. I realized. He must've drawn them off. And healed given me the Nth metal feather to heal my hand. That complete idiot had tried to sacrifice himself for me. Which was the opposite of what was supposed to happen. _I_ was the hero here. Not the other way around. But I had no means of finding him. Talon could be anywhere by now, especially considering the fact that the sun was up when it wasn't even on the horizon when I blacked out. Deathstroke could easily have recaptured him by now.

I needed help. I pulled out my cell phone and glared at it. I called JJ.

"Hoodie?" Well he picked up quick.

"Is the team busy? Because I have a mission for you. And I'm warning you now, it's going to be weird."

"Obviously I can't come because, you know, wheelchair and all, but everyone else is available. Let me put you on speaker."

* * *

-Lex Luthor POV-

I took a moment to observe him. Currently, the boy was confined to an electronic wheelchair, one leg elevated flat out in front of him and one arm in a sling, limiting the range of motion he could display in his shoulder. There were several bandages carefully and neatly wrapped around his ribs and collarbone, a small patch on one forehead covering what was probably a large cut. Largely healed bruising appeared around his throat where someone had obviously tried to strangle him. He wore a sweatshirt, unzipped, a muddy sort of green color, unwashed and oversized, revealing the bandages beneath and only allowing one arm through the sleeve because of the sling. His pants were jeans, again muddy, worn at the knees and generally unsalvageable. His shoes overworn sneakers, well tread and falling apart at the seams, belt covered in pouches and various tools and weapons, including several knives, guns, small explosives, a phone, a wrench, a stapler, a keychain of the bat signal, a notebook, and what looked suspiciously like a lightsaber. It was his green hair and eyes that identified him to me though. This was the son of the Joker and Harley Quinn, JJ. And he was in my office. It was nearly my lunch break. "You don't have an appointment." I accused blandly as my new… _guest_ wheeled himself up in front of me. It was a horrid chair, that whirring noise was infuriating and it didn't look overly comfortable. It was also to big for him. I automatically started mentally designing a new one before stopping that train of thought. I was not inventing a new wheelchair for this intruding child.

"Yeah I do, see?" he held up a phone, a digital copy of my schedule for the day on it. I glanced at my own phone to confirm it. _**Talk with JJ: 12:30- 2:00**_ was written in. I may have been vaguely impressed. "I'm awesome," he explained, "Also, yhe've got a hacker problem. An' you should probably talk to your secretaries about letting in obviously suspicious children."

I glared at him. "Not if I have you arrested," I pointed out mildly.

JJ shrugged carelessly with his uninjured shoulder. "Before ya even know what I want? Bad business."

He was right of course, killing him now would be wasteful, especially because he'd bleed all over my new carpeting, but I still hated it when other people thought they were as smart as me. "And what is it that you want?"

"To talk to you, obviously." Okay so he obviously wasn't as smart as me. The Joker's son was missing a few screws. Predictable. That did not mean however that I was happy about having a mentally unstable person in my office.

"And what was it exactly that you wanted to talk with me about?" Patience is not my strong suite. I run a multi-billion dollar company. Time is money. I prefer not to waste it.

"You had a love-child with Superman."

No matter how intelligent I am, that sentence was bound to throw me for a moment. "That's not how I'd phrase it. I merely volunteered my genetic information to-"

"Have a love child, yeah, I c'n _see_ that," JJ interrupted me. The temptation to have him killed increased. It would be so easy. "If you jus' wanted him smarter, you'd've made sure he got your brains. You didn'. Jus' gave him half your DNA. An' you didn' make an adult clone. He's about sixteen, still a kid. You had Mr. Underwear's child. You loved with him, didn't you?"

I started at him. JJ's eyes were intensely (unnaturally) green. And for all that those eyes belonged to someone who was technically a child, I could see that there was an intelligence and maybe even a wisdom in them beyond his years. "There's no point in lying to you. So yes, as much as it is possible for someone like me to love someone."

JJ just hmmed, not breaking eye contact. "And now?"

"I'm a villain," I stated simply. That really was all the answer I needed to give. JJ was smart enough to understand.

"You're the darker end of grey," he argued.

"We know that," I agreed. "And we also know that he'll never be able to see that."

JJ nodded, finally breaking eye contact. Those eyes were so intensely green it felt as though he had been weighing my soul. It was a relief to finally have him blinking again. Not of course that I gave any outward indication of that. I'd long ago learned how to control my physical reactions, including my heartbeat, when confronted with something uncomfortable. If I could fool Superman, I could fool this kid.

"'M sorry, I was making you uncomfortable," he apologized.

Or maybe not. "You're more observant that Superman," I observed, fishing for an explanation.

"Maybe I can jus' see something he can't," the boy offered slyly.

"Superman has electro-magnetic spectrum vision, telescopic vision, microscopic vision, x-ray vision and heat vision," I reminded him dryly. "What can you possibly see that he can't?"

JJ just smiled. That confirmed that he really did have a type of vision Superman lacked, not just the ability to notice emotions better. Interesting. I might have to look into this.

"Nothing in this conversation has really revealed any new information to you, so what did you really come here for?" I asked. JJ may have confirmed his suspicions about my feelings towards Superman, but that wasn't worth the risk of coming here in person. No. He was after something else.

"I wanted ta see if you were worthy of being my friend's dad," JJ explained with a shrug. "He deserves someone who's not an asshat. Obviously the Ubermensch doesn't qualify."

"And your verdict?" I raised one brow lazily. It was a mannerism I'd affected to make it seem as though I didn't particularly care one way or the other about anything.

"… I'll let 'im decide," JJ decided finally. "If you reach out to 'im that is. Obviously your willingness would have to be part of it. I've told him about yer relation already though. 'E had the right to know. But that's it."

"You haven't mentioned how I'm currently considered an international supervillain by certain circles or my connections to Superman?" I confirmed, already knowing his answer and finding myself mildly surprised by it.

"No. He'll do his own lookin' and form his own opinions. I'll not let him be some sort of weapon or tool," there was a hint of warning there which I took note of. Not because I was at all threatened by JJ, but because his defensiveness interested me. "He's me friend."

"I see," I agreed without giving any actual confirmation. "Would you care to have lunch with me? I believe there is still time in my schedule for that."

JJ brightened. We both knew that had been intentionally done by him but affected the pretense of it being coincidental. "If you're payin', who am I to say no?"

Lunch was just as telling as the meeting had been.

Afterward I reviewed everything JJ had given away, both about himself and about Superboy. JJ had mentioned Ubermensch. That meant JJ had read Niche. And understood it. He could do more than just hack. This was further confirmed by him mentioning Superboy's genetics. He didn't sound as though he were parroting the Batman. He understood advanced neo-genetics. It was a disparagingly small field of study, suggesting that he understood the wider spectrum of adaptive genetics. JJ considered Superboy his friend and was highly protective of him. And if that wasn't a weakness that could be exploited I didn't know what was. Hurting Superboy would hurt JJ, which suggested that the reverse was probable as well. Youth responded eagerly to affection. Superboy was probably just as protective of JJ as JJ was of him. He failed to pick up on several common social cues. That could likely be attributed to what was doubtlessly a plethora of mental deficiencies and imbalances inherited from his parents and reinforced by his childhood. The full range of his issues was both unimportant and uncertain. JJ could see either emotions or personality, possibly the fluctuations therein. This was an ability I had not yet come across. From what I could gather, he could physically see it as a layer to his vision. I wasn't sure how vast crowds, personal emotional states, levels of wakefulness, or physical obstacles would affect this vision either. JJ may or may not possess additional abilities, along with his accelerated healing, which he obviously inherited from his mother, though not on a level that would be helpful within the confines of a single battle. I was unable to tell if he was on pain medication or if he normally behaved as he did, though if he wasn't that suggested an increased pain tolerance of the kind often found in fast-healers. JJ's current injuries had been given to him by the Joker, whom he obviously no longer considered family. He had too much faith in familial bonds to be considered healthy or average for a supervillain, though probably about average for a hero. After that my observations pottered off to menial observations as to JJ's interests (StarWars, charitable foundations, the insufficiency of the English language (we finished the discussion in Japanese)) and the extent of his current injuries (previously life-threatening, currently an annoyance and liability). Considering the length of our conversation, JJ certainly hadn't given away much. It was rare someone could make me feel as though I had given more information than I received, not to mention counteractive.

Granted, the only reason JJ could deduce so much was because of that vision of his. I'd need to keep an eye on him. Neither of his parents had that ability, and that made him both unique and potentially dangerous since I didn't know the full extent of his powers. Being able to discern my feelings towards Superman were probably just the start.

My feelings towards Superman. JJ had called it love, but I'm not convinced that I truly know how to feel such a thing. I certainly felt no familial love growing up, having murdered several of my family members, and romantic love isn't really a consideration what with three past failed marriages. So far. **(AN: Lex and Clark's backstories are ****loosely** **based off the Smallville-verse. I haven't actually watched all 11 seasons or whatever, but that's the main vibe I'm going for here.)** I'd always known I had a darkness within me and that it eventually soured all my interpersonal relationships, usually in a more permanent fashion. Superman is the only person who has ever been able to survive me. And since his world of black and white morality excluded me from standing by his side, I will continue to stand as his opposition.

Superboy was… an act of vanity, I suppose. I have never cared particularly much about the lives of those I step over to reach my desires. I did not create him out of some misguided search for an heir, nor particularly because I needed another weapon, particularly with Project Talon in the works. For all the rationalizing I gave the Light, Project Kr was not designed to destroy Superman. That much should be obvious to anyone of intelligence, though sadly so few qualify for that I doubt anyone even realized: Superboy is incapable of defeating Superman. Because of his human DNA, he's too weak, at least without enhancements. Perhaps I could work with that, for all that it's a project for another day. No, Superboy's purpose was exactly what JJ said it was: To create a child of both myself and Superman. Not out of some menial desire for domesticity, but because I wanted Superman to have something of mine, and because I myself wanted something of his. A child was relatively permanent and wouldn't be thrown away or lost like so many other things.

Surely the Man of Steel couldn't ignore his own flesh and blood? That would be a betrayal of what he stood for, the American Dream and other such melodramatic idealistic drivel. Apparently though I had misjudged him. Superboy was made by 'the bad guys' and was therefore evil in Superman's mind. There would be no getting around that. Superboy was a failure of his true intended purpose.

That being said, he was still potentially useful to me. How many Kryptonians, or even part-Kryptonians are wandering around, especially carrying around so few preconceptions and expectations with them? Superboy would not be wary of me. JJ hadn't warned him away. That was foolish of him, but useful. I could work with that. The easiest way to capture Superboy's attention would be through Project Match, of course. I had no doubt that he'd see the clone as his 'brother' in need of help or something similar. Maybe I should mention Projects Talon and CAT too while I was at it? No, better not to show my full hand just yet. Perhaps in time. A peace offering would be necessary too, I could create something to temporarily enhance Superboy's Kryptonian heritage? No, that would be far too dangerous in the hands of Superman, should he ever get a hold of it. Something to suppress his human half then? Yes, that would serve me better. After all, he _should_ be able to hold his own against Superman, right?

There was a phone call waiting when I returned to my office. Breaking myself out of my thoughts, I answered it. "What do you mean Project Talon has been compromised?! Why didn't you contact me directly instead of my office?!" Checking my pocket, I realized I didn't have my phone.

I added pickpocketing to my mental list of JJ's abilities. That brat.

* * *

-Talon POV-

Let me say this: Deathstroke the fucking Terminator is a fucking asshole. And very persistent. I've been flying for hours and every time I stop, either something stabs me, I get shot or ropes come out of nowhere, trying to recapture me. Obviously my only saving grace is that Deathstroke isn't actually out to kill me, just to catch me again. If he wanted me dead I'm sure I would be by now, even with the healing factor I've got. All his attacks are aimed to injure or disable. And let me tell you, I was getting _tired_. Even having flown what I considered a safe Deathstroke didn't miss a beat keeping up. I thought he was human! How come he can keep up with a Thanagarian clone in the air?! Normal people can't _do_ shit like that!

I landed on the highest branch I could find that would support my weight in a pine tree. Those suckers are _tall_ so I figured I might be okay. Until a bullet shot straight up my back and I fell, hitting what felt like every. Single. Fucking. Branch. On my way down. May I remind you that it was a very tall tree? Yeah. The bullet had entered through my lower back and exited somewhere in my chest. Probably pierced a lung along the way judging by the amount of blood I was breathing in. The pain was bad, though it was nothing I hadn't handled before. I could take the pain. If I could remember which way was up. Or even sit up.

_Okay, I think I'm on the ground right now. That's solid. Let's try moving now. Shit. I can't move until my wing heals. I'm grounded_. And Deathstroke would be right behind me. I was going to go back. Or they'd move me. Or they'd just kill me. Obviously I'd failed. Failure meant death. _I don't want to die. I need to move_. I managed to get to my hands and knees, wobbling to one side. My right wing was twisted at an ugly angle. I needed to set it before it started healing wrong. I hated re-breaking bones. A foot stomped onto my back and I flatted out against the ground.

"It was a nice try, kid," a deep, masculine voice told me. _Deathstroke_, I realized, _He got me. I'm doomed_. "But this was always going to be the end result. You should've made a run for the city. You're only useful because nobody knows about you. Unfortunately, your little helper might have to die, but we can work around that. Time to head back."

_Red Arrow? No!_ I didn't want him in danger for helping me. He should be rewarded, not thanked with death. He didn't deserve to die. But there was nothing I could do. No way for me to beat Deathstroke when I was in optimal shape, nevermind now when I was injured, hungry, tired and weak.I gulped and squeezed my eyes shut against the tears. Crying was weakness. Weakness meant failure. Failure meant death. I wanted to live.

I wasn't going quietly. I bunched up my muscles for one final resistance, knowing it would fail and perfectly willing to try anyway, knowing that there were obvious tells and Deathstroke would be ready for my attempt, knowing that Red Arrow would die soon after, knowing I was weak enough to deserve death and not wanting it anyway.

A black blur tackled Deathstroke from the side. A yellow blur darted back and forth, punching him a few times. Exploding disks came out of nowhere and … _something_ whipped out and hit him in the chest. I was too dizzy and confused to do anything really. An arrow was cut out of the air, though it would have collided with Deathstroke's remaining eye. _What the fuck is going on?_ The answer was not forthcoming.

"Fine," Deathstroke decided, "If his existence is compromised, you can keep the brat. He's a failure anyway." There was a whoosh of smoke before he disappeared.

Someone rushed over and knelt by me. I think I thanked them by vomiting blood on their shoes. Oops.

* * *

**Okay so Lex is kinda prone to internal monologuing. Is anyone surprised? If your eyes just sorta glazed over at that part, I don't blame you. It was exhausting to write. On the upside: Hey, look! I wrote something! Aren't you proud? **


	8. Character Spotlight - JJ

**So, this isn't a real chapter, just a character spotlight. Mostly, this is me explaining JJ's personality, motivations and feelings towards other particularly relevant characters from third person POV. Not much by way of warnings either. Sorry it's so short, but I figured something is better than nothing, right? So here, take this and make of it what you want. **

* * *

JJ had been desperately unhappy for a long time. Even when he was young, he knew he wasn't like other kids. Other kids didn't talk to things that (apparently) nobody else could see and they didn't like hurting people. Other kids didn't get bullied for having green hair. Other kids didn't make other people cringe when they laughed. Other kids didn't learn other languages for fun in their spare time or memorize the chemical composition for trinitrotoluene. Hell, most other kids didn't know that trinitrotoluene was the real name for TNT! Other kids didn't do the things he did and they just weren't like him. Or rather, he wasn't like them. Because all that happened to JJ. He was weird and alone and strange and sometimes even grown-ups flinched away from him. And he always knew that. And all these differences made him desperately unhappy.

And then there were the lights. He'd always been able to see those too. They came from people. Sometimes, if a person loved a thing enough he'd be able to see bits of their lights reflected in the object. When he took a girl's stuffed bear, watching fascinated as the warmth and love and innocence flowed through the thing, she cried and screamed at him for stealing it. He just wanted to see the colors. He didn't mean to make her go blue-grey at the edges like that. He didn't understand. And while he couldn't see his own lights, he was pretty sure they were blue-grey too right then. Not that anyone else could see it.

When JJ looked at his mom, he saw the way her colors were twisted around and a sickly green-black vein of fire warped them slightly, changing their shapes. He didn't know what it meant. He just thought it was beautiful. Because of course his mom was beautiful. She'd sit him down every night and tell him stories of his father, Mr. J and how great he was. JJ didn't think he'd ever have stories told about him like that. Or any stories told about him at all. Not good ones at least.

Then that one bully pushed him just a little too far. And something broke in his head - or was it his heart? - and the next thing he knew he was spitting out part of an ear and the other, larger boy was running home screaming, one hand trying to cover the spot where all the blood was coming from. His mom packed him up after that but that was okay, because she was his mom and of course she knew what was best for him because that's just what parents did.

Gotham was… big. And scary. Big buildings. Big people. Big expectations. And since when had there been expectations on him of any kind? He was supposed to be his father. And his father terrified him. But JJ, even a young JJ, was smart, regardless of whether or not he was sane. Fear was black. Fear was dark. It was easy to hide the darkness. He wouldn't show fear. Never. He was resolved and when it came down to it he stuck to his guns.

Literally. He got his hands on some guns. He was a good shot. Some thug - sent by his father no doubt, he recognized his aura even if he couldn't see his face - tried to jump him. JJ wasn't sure what it was the guy wanted but the second the man had looked away to take his belt off there was a bullet between his eyes and he was falling back, dead. JJ had killed his first man. He wasn't the last. And JJ cursed himself for nearly showing his fear, for throwing up still at the scene of the crime, for being sloppy, for not having seen something like this coming and for making the man's aura fade. JJ killed more after that. And he practiced with his guns. Because he needed to.

And he learned how to torture from his father's knee. That was where he realized: there was a (_sickhoriblewrong__easy_) certain kind of quality about a person's aura that changed as he worked on them. The black streaks. Stains. The darkness. And it was so dangerously simple to play with. JJ didn't even have to touch a person to make them hurt. He could use words. As he got a better sense of what sorts of darkness meant what, he learned how to make those stains, those hurts, those _traumas_ grow out of proportion and spread like an infectious disease. Sometimes, he even made their auras twist the same way his parents were. JJ realized then what that twist meant. Insanity. He had been driving people insane out of idle curiosity. And to his horror, he found he didn't particularly mind.

"Bones, blood, bits or brains?" What a choice that was. He always offered. Couldn't help it really. Nobody ever made a good choice. There were no good choices to make.

Batman showed up. JJ's parents got sent to Arkham. JJ went to juvie. They sent him a child psychologist. The psychologist jumped off the roof after the second session. JJ ran away. His parents broke out. Nothing much changed.

Every time they met, Bossy B would try to tell him to be better, do better, that he didn't have to go back to his parents. Bossy B didn't understand. How could he? Bossy B's parents were dead and before they'd died he'd been loved. So loved. JJ could read it in his aura. He knew why Bossy B was the Batman. He didn't talk about it though. Bossy B may be stained deep, but he was so _good_. He helped keep the darkness away, for all that he was seeping with it from his very core. JJ looked up to that. His aura was beautiful, in a tortured, stubborn sort of way. Bossy B knew exactly what the darkness was and what it did, to others and to himself, and fought it anyway. JJ learned that the color for courage was blinding and beautiful and he started to love that color.

Robin showed up. Robin. The Boy Wonder. Dick Grayson. Dickiebird. And Robin's aura… it could so easily end up just like Bossy B's. So easily. JJ would be able to recognize Robin's aura anywhere, half a crowded city block away even, if he were looking. And his senses were only starting to stretch farther, expand wider. Robin's darkness, while very real, hadn't sunken in yet. It didn't have to be permanent. He could ward it off. If he wanted to. Or make it worse.

Sometimes it occurred to JJ that he was playing god, messing with people's auras - their very _selves_ \- like he was. He read a few theology books. People who played god were usually assholes. JJ knew a lot of assholes. He didn't think he'd mind being one. A god or an asshole, he wasn't sure which. JJ simply didn't care what he was. He was willing to be anything really.

He just… liked seeing the light in people's auras. JJ liked being surrounded by good people, for all that it made him feel filthy in comparison. Robin was a great fighter, a great opponent, a great hero but more than that he was still _good_ in a way that JJ didn't see in anyone else. He wanted to see more of it.

So he said the words. "The Boy Wonder isn't here." And when he came back, he offered to be whatever Robin wanted him to be. Whatever he had to be to stay near him, villain or friend he didn't care. Dick Grayson gave him his name, and he warned him of his. They went their separate ways. And when Dick Grayson came back again, JJ was happy. And painfully, desperately hopeful. JJ had made - he was too scared to call him a friend - a connection with someone who was so utterly good. It made something in his gut curl up and tie itself in knots while something in his chest squeezed so tight it was almost painful, and he couldn't get enough of it. Sometimes it _hurt_ how badly he wanted this and Robin just kept giving him kindness as though it were free, or as though he deserved it. JJ knew he would never get enough.

Then Kid Flash came. Wally West. Racer. And JJ _forced_ the darkness away from him. Because Wally West was willing to be his friend - not that JJ was willing to call it that yet - and because he deserved better than that. Because he was good. And great too. JJ knew that people who held so much light within themselves didn't deserve to have fathers who hit them. They deserved people like Racer's Uncle Barry. They deserved to be surrounded by heroes and goodness and light bright enough to match themselves.

JJ also knew that he was selfish and greedy and desperate for as much as they were willing to share with him. It was twisted for someone like him to be around someone like them, he was constantly afraid to accidentally corrupt them or something. What if he had an episode? What if he messed up _their_ auras? There were enough stains that, if JJ had an episode, if he lost control and slipped up and turned on them, he could destroy them. JJ had made people kill themselves by doing that. And every time he exposed those two to his presence he ran that risk. He knew it. It hurt him. But JJ _needed_ their light or he'd fall into his own darkness completely. Dickiebird had told him not to be his father and he would fight that with everything he had. Because Dickiebird had asked, and not ordered. And because Dickiebird deserved to get what he wanted.

That eventually lead him to Speedy. Red Arrow. Roy Harper. Hoodling. Hoodie. A new precious person. Roy Harper didn't quite _shine_ outwards in the same way Robin and Kid Flash did. He kept his light inside himself and only shared it with those he cared about. He was still almost blindingly bright to JJ's eyes. Speedy (Red Arrow now, but he'd been Speedy then) had given JJ so much courage. The guy seemed fearless. He didn't have anyone. Didn't need anyone. And he took them all in. And he kept them. Speedy didn't seem to truly lean on anyone. Not Green Arrow, not Black Canary, not Batman, not anyone. JJ saw that and wanted it for himself. He wanted to be strong.

Speedy wasn't afraid of him either. Granted, few were, but most were cautious. They understood, at least partially, that JJ was dangerous. They could see what he could do and they took half a step back, just in case. Speedy didn't. Speedy wasn't afraid of him in the slightest. Speedy was stronger than that. His courage was blinding and he had so much of it that he ended up sharing some with JJ. JJ was suddenly less afraid of hurting his precious people. Because Speedy was strong enough to stop him if he had do. And JJ was grateful for that.

There were others. Frozone. Duchess and Sylvester. Bossy B and Agent A. Whiskers and Archer. But standing next to them never made JJ feel quite so inexplicably filthy in comparison. He still valued them just as deeply but just not in the same way. Those three were his guiding lights, his absolute compass, his safety net and - though he still never dared say it aloud - his greatest friends. Maybe even his brothers - though he didn't so much as allow himself to think that. It was too selfish. And so JJ found himself deliriously happy whenever they would appear and destitutely lonely whenever they were gone. And they were gone much of the time.

They built a team. And JJ absolutely loved it. Aqualad. Kaldur'ahm. Gills. A true north or morals. Something JJ found deeply intimidating to stand next to, finding it almost ambitious. But the older boy was kind and soft spoken and he couldn't find it in him to turn away from what was so obviously welcoming and open.

Superboy. There weren't any other names for him. Not yet. He was just so… new. And young. Sure the clone _knew_ things but only facts and places and history and stuff. Not real things. Not kindness or cruelty. He was so… untouched. Nobody had hurt him yet. Nobody had made him good. Nobody had made him special one way or another. Superboy could be anyone. Part of JJ burned at that, the jealousy ached and ate him up but he didn't let it. Superboy had a chance. It was a chance JJ wouldn't let _anyone_ take away from him. JJ had resolved before the clone had even woken up, that he'd be free. One way or another.

Miss Martian. M'gann M'orzz. Marvin the Martian. Maybe even Marvie when he was being casual. She wasn't blinding like the others were, but what light she did have she shared with _everyone_ and anyone. They say the loneliest people are the kindest. JJ has to agree, having met her. Her light had been dampened, but not destroyed or marred like it could have been, he realizes that she's too strong for something like that. JJ wondered how strong he was in comparison.

For a day, one perfect, lovely day he was surrounded by light. None of them even saw how great they were. But JJ saw. And he loved every second of it. He didn't even feel horrible for standing beside him because they _wanted_ him there, and said as much. They were keeping him with them and dammit it he didn't just feel _loved_ because of it. And it was terribly wonderful and fragile and addictive to him and he never wanted to let it go.

Then… The Joker. Red Hood. Monster. Psychopath. Father. Dad. And Harley Quinn. Harlene Quinzel. Mother. Mom. They weren't just gone. They weren't just ripped away from him. They ripped him away from them and cast him aside like a puss-ridden scab they were sick of looking at. And it _hurt_ in ways it shouldn't. Sure, JJ's body was broken but it would heal. He always did. Physical pain was nothing new to him. He had older scars. But Red Hood had _talked_ to him. Told him… he wasn't wanted. Took the feeling of love away from him. Tore away the illusion and shredded it to confetti. And all the hurt came back and welled up from where he'd shoved it when the team formed. Because the hurt would never just _go_ for all that he could block it out whenever his friends were there, hiding in their light.

JJ held it together until he could chases everyone away and be alone before he broke down. Superboy stopped him. And wasn't that grand? Superboy wanted to stay with them - with _him_ part of him rejoiced selfishly - and didn't want them - _him_ \- to get hurt. Obviously he didn't understand the way it hurt JJ more to keep the pain inside him but if Superboy didn't want him to bleed then JJ wouldn't let himself. Because he desperately wanted to live up to that, regardless of whether he was really worthy or not and he simply ached to be loved and not hated for once in his life. He'd lost that. Or rather, it was taken away from him. JJ would never have parents again. Wouldn't accept them. He no longer wanted replacements.

JJ believed that he was meant to be alone and that he always would be, no matter how hard he tried to be good. There was no changing what he was. Insane. A killer. Freak. And no matter how much light he stood beside and how much courage was shared with him, he couldn't quite claim it as his own, not the way he had for that one, perfect day.

It would take a long time before he stopped believing that. Before he met someone who convinced him otherwise.


	9. Introducing the Youngest Hawk

**Warning: After-effects of child abuse.**

* * *

-Robin/Dick POV- (1 Year before start of Canon)

"Heya Dickiebird." He greeted. His voice didn't sound cheerful though. "How ya' been? Still fightin' the good fight?"

"JJ… what happened to your face?" I asked him. He turned to look at me. The one eye was bruised and swollen so badly I doubt he could see from it. His lip was bleeding and there was a trail of blood down his nose, showing that it had recently been reset. There were several cuts on his face, one right under his unswollen eye, dangerously close.

JJ shrugged. I gave him a look and he just turned away and muttered, "Nothin' much. I wasn't lookin' where I was goin'. Accidentally walked myself into my father's fists a time 'er two. No biggie."

I sighed, knowing there wasn't much I could do. Gesturing for him to sit down on the rooftop beside me I got out my first aid kit. It was the least I could do. "And your mom?" I asked. We both knew that I didn't care what happened to JJ's mom, but that JJ did and that's what mattered right now. JJ would be crushed if anything happened to his mom.

"'S fine," he dismissed, still not looking me in the eyes.

"And does her being fine have something to do with you not being able to see out of your left eye?" I asked, carefully applying antiseptic to one of the smaller cuts. Naturally my belt contained basic first aid supplies.

"Nah. Well- yeah. Maybe a little. I don't mind." JJ reached up with one hand and yanked on his green bangs. "'M fine."

We both knew he wasn't. I started adding bandages over the larger cuts. It took two to hold his eyebrow together. "I'm going to say it again-"

"And I'll turn you down again," he warned.

"You could just come back with us." I said it anyway. "You don't have to stay."

"Yeah I do, Dickiebird," JJ said sadly. "That's somethin' you and Bossy B won't understand- and I don't want you to. You… you're a good person. Maybe you do somethin' bad here or there but that don' matter. Yer still good. But me? Nah. The world needs people like you. White knights or whatever. In order for there to be good people, there gotta be bad people too. 'S the way the world works. Just is."

"You're not a bad person JJ," I argued weakly.

"You seen my fight, Dickiebird. We _both_ know what I am. And what I am is my father's son. No matter what it is I'd like to be. 'M always gonna be crazy."

I didn't bother denying it. JJ tugged on his bangs again, scowling as I wiped the blood away from his upper lip. "You don't belong with him."

"I don't belong with you either," JJ stated blandly. "And I sure as hell don't belong surrounded by normal people. That just wouldn't end pretty. Not your kind of pretty anyways. To my mind it might be."

"Put some ice on that so the swelling will go down," I ordered quietly, gesturing to the unopened eye.

"Yes Dr. Bird," JJ smirked carefully as not to reopen his split lip. "I'll do that." He paused. "You should get outta here. Got perfectly good people to save." He stood and walked away. I let him.

_Don't you realize I want to save you too?_ But I didn't say anything. JJ didn't think he deserved saving. What scared me most was the thought that maybe he was partially right. Maybe JJ couldn't be saved.

* * *

-Batman POV-

"Are they in trouble?"

"They left base without permission, took an unauthorized mission, endangered their own lives, encountered Deathstroke the Terminator, brought an unidentified potential threat to base, so yes, JJ, they're in trouble," I confirmed blandly.

"Why?" he insisted, wheeling along after me, the whir of the wheels becoming distinctly annoying. I made a mental not to have Wayne Industries start researching personal mobility assistance, and prosthetics while I was at it. Might be profitable.

"I think I just explained that."

"Naw," he shook his head vehemently, green hair flopping all over, "you just told me what they did. No' why they're in trouble. Also, if that adorable-ass kid's a threat, I'll eat my socks. And even _I_ don' get that desperate."

I gave him a BatGlare without stopping my stride. It was about half as effective like that. JJ gave me an unrepentant grin. "I'm just sayin'. We're a team. We did good."

"You weren't there," I pointed out.

"I was elsewhere."

Then I did stop and give him a full BatGlare. JJ looked away, not uncomfortable or guilty per-se, but perhaps hopeful that I would drop the subject and not wrest the truth out of it if he attempted to appear innocent. I was unimpressed. "JJ." I have practice making his very name sound like an accusation. "Are you going to make me ask what you were doing?"

"I was running interference," he admitted evasively.

"With who?" I pushed. I swear, if he was running interference with the League he'll have landed the whole team in hot water - hotter than it was before anyway. I'm already taking pressure from all sides about allowing this team to form. I'm not sure how well I can continue to protect them from the rumblings in the League about 'letting their sidekicks get uppity.' Nobody phrases it like that of course, but the sentiment is there, mostly from Green Arrow and Superman, which is both ironic and inconvenient. I was hoping Clark would pull through with this. He isn't. And Ollie… well I never approved of the way he dealt with Roy. Roy Harper was a ward of Oliver Queen, and Oliver Queen was his legal guardian, in no way was he a father to the boy, who was already verging on being a man. Neither Leaguer would be happy if they found out that JJ of all the team members was keeping secrets from them.

"NottheLeagueIswear!" JJ rushed out, staring persistently at my feet and squirming before picking at his sling. He was weak under pressure, I knew he would crack. "I- it- um? It's a secret?" he offered hopefully.

I just gave the kid a deadpan stare. The BatGlare's effectiveness would wear off if I used it to often or too long and I knew it wasn't needed for the rest of this interrogation. Conversation. Small difference. He would crack. I would wait.

"Aye, right. Need ta' tell you something..." he mumbled, trailing off as he gazed at the hand in his lap before looking up and staring me in the eyes. "If I tell you who but don't tell you why, and you find out why on your own, does it still count as me bein' a rat? Because, um, I don' wanna…"

_Ah. So that's why he's resisting so hard_. For all JJ's faults (most of which stem from either his parentage or his upbringing, essentially the same thing really) he is surprisingly and persistently dutiful with a great many things. Keeping secrets that belong to other people is one of them. I measured the question, regardless of the fact that I wanted to know what he'd been up to. He deserved a fair answer, not one colored by my desire for information. Developing JJ's moral boundaries was a bit of a group effort, so I'd decided long ago to take questions of this kind seriously.

"You'll need to tell me eventually. And I'm sure you've figured you that I have a tracker in the chair. I can find out on my own or you can tell me. In the end it makes no difference," I informed him simply. "And in answer to your question, you can subtly set people on the right path to finding something out only if you think they ought to know, but the person involved has already refused to share the information. Just don't be obvious about it. Otherwise tell them to go directly to the source first. Okay?"

JJ chewed his lip for a minute. "Okay," JJ agreed, nodding. "I was distractin' Lex Luthor. 'E's the one who owns Project Kr and Project Talon. I just don' have the proof of it."

I nodded. Honestly, I'd expected his involvement with Superboy too. I mean, anything to do with Superman probably got traced back to either Krypton or Lex Luthor at some point, often times both. I don't have to be the greatest detective in the world to figure that out. And if JJ thought it was true then it was, regardless of whether or not he could prove it. I usually chalked it up to that strange ability he has of reading people's auras.

"Lex Luthor," I verified. JJ nodded. "You're in trouble too. Line up with the rest of them."

* * *

-Superboy POV-

I did not like being lined up as though we had done something wrong. Red Arrow had called for help, or 'accepted assistance' as he phrased it, we'd answered him, and rescued the victim. We did the right thing and nobody got hurt. The kid (with wings) was in medical and apparently making a miraculous recovery. JJ whirred up next to me.

"Where have you been?" I asked him. I could smell that he'd been in a city. The smog was still rolling off him in waves. I wasn't exactly a dog, I couldn't track anyone if it came to that, but I did have a sharper nose than anyone else I'd met. Except, probably Superman. Not that he'd tell me about having super-senses or anything.

"Running interference," he beamed up at me. I raised an eyebrow. "You'll see."

Batman walked in and just sorta started everyone in the room down. I noticed Robin and JJ straightening while everyone else seemed to curl inward. I braced myself and stood tall. We'd done nothing wrong. The glare was uncalled for. "Exactly what happened?" he demanded eventually.

Kaldur stepped forward. "Red Arrow called for backup. We answered. He'd been investigating a new supplier of Nth metal to Lex Luthor. Upon infiltrating the compound, he realized that the metal was being biologically produced by Project Talon, the boy currently residing in our medical ward. They escaped together, but were pursued by Deathstroke. Red Arrow was injured and unable to protect Talon. When we arrived, Talon was severely injured and Deathstroke was standing over him. I wouldn't go so far as to say that we defeated Deathstroke, but our presence seemed to refute his interests in the boy, and he left. We were unable to pursue as getting Talon to medical was our first priority."

_Huh. That was a succinct, accurate description of what happened. And Batman didn't even glare harder or anything._ I decided that I was all in favor of anything that involved Batman not glaring. I could stand against it, but that didn't mean I _liked_ it.

"And JJ, what were you doing?" Batman asked, switching focus.

JJ adopted what he must have thought was an innocent expression. "Distracting Lex Luthor."

Basically everyone freaked out. "What?! You could've been blasted!" "JJ! Now he knows who you are! He can find you!" "Are you okay? You seem okay." "You should not have acted so impulsively, especially without backup." I just asked. "Why?"

"Lex is smart. Really fuckin' smart," JJ informed us. "So naturally, there's no proof anywhere that 'e funded Cadmus, donated his DNA to Project Kr willingly, or came up with Project Talon. Hell, 'M pretty sure he helped with Project CAT too, but I've _still _got no proof. All of 'is projects have been scrapped as soon as they've been found. You lot jus' needed the time to get the kid out. But smart guys like Baldy don' get distracted by petty tricks. So I went in person."

"And what was his reaction?" Batman demanded irritably. I couldn't tell if he was angry or worried. Probably angry.

JJ just shrugged. "Curious, not threatened. Interested. 'E figured I could see _somethin'_ but not what exactly. He'll have figured out afterward that I'm helpin' you guys thanks to the timing. He knows I'm full time around here thanks to da- Joker's arrest. I'm of no more interest than anyone else on the team."

"You're saying you told him about the team?"

JJ gave him a look that said quite clearly 'no you moron'. I couldn't help but agree. JJ wasn't an idiot. "He owns - or owned - Cadmus. You really think he doesn't have video surveillance? You think Deathstroke won't mention Marvin? Nah. We're stealth. Doesn't mean they won't know we exist." JJ let that sink in. Nobody was comfortable with the enemy already knowing we existed. It was an unsettling realization.

Batman was silent for a moment. "Fair enough."

* * *

-Talon POV-

I was comfortable. I was in a bed. My injuries had been seen to and were mostly gone already.

_What the actual fuck?_

"Oh! You awake yet?" _Who's that?_ I was kind of tired. I wanted to stay asleep in this nice, comfortable place where nothing hurt. I did not want to talk to this obviously overenthusiastic person… whoever they were. "Maybe he just twitched in 'is sleep… Maybe I should poke 'im, see if he's okay… Hey, Superboy, should I poke him?"

"No, leave him alone," a much deeper, slightly older voice told the first one. "Even if he can heal quickly, those injuries were pretty bad. Let him rest, JJ."

"But I'm _bored_~!" The first voice, now named JJ, whined.

Superboy was unimpressed. "Then go do something else."

"But 'e came from a lab right?" JJ confirmed, "And this is the infirmary. It looks kinda like a lab. I don't wanna make him think he got caught again or somethin'."

"Right. Because your presence is very soothing," Superboy deadpanned.

"Was that sarcasm?" JJ sounded absolutely delighted. "Did you learn sarcasm? Who taught you that? Was it the scary lizard monkey thingies?"

"No. It was you."

"... Oh." JJ realized. "Well, s' long as you know."

There was blessed silence for a moment. I was perfectly willing to let myself drift off again. I mean, obviously I wasn't in any danger. I could sleep some more. The better rested I was when things inevitably went to shit, the better.

"You already know metaphor an' hyperbole an' simile an' stuff though, right, not just sarcasm?" JJ interrupted.

"Yes. JJ, if you can't let the kid sleep in peace, maybe you should leave him alone," Superboy reprimanded.

"An' when I get bored?" JJ asked flatly.

"You're already bored here. Go bug Robin," Superboy instructed. "He's probably bugging Batman right now anyway."

"...Good point," JJ admitted. "See you soon! Tell me when 'e wakes up so I can say hi!"

There was the sound of feet racing and a door slamming. "Sorry. He's enthusiastic. You can go back to sleep. I won't bug you."

"How'd you know I was awake?" I croaked out, still not bothering to open my eyes.

"I can hear your heartbeat," Superboy admitted. I could hear the shrug in his voice.

"Oh," I noted. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

And there were no more voices to annoy me as I curled on my side, curling one wing over myself, and drifted off again. For whatever reason, Superboy didn't seem like a threat. I let myself believe that, no matter how slim the chances of it being true were, and relaxed. If I were back in captivity, I'd be killed soon anyway. If I was somewhere else, then hopefully it didn't matter. I was too tired to give it more thought than that.


	10. Recoveries and Connections

**Warnings:** Talon is a pessimist and a potty-mouth. Not much really, that's it.

* * *

Also. 'This' is mental-link talking via Miss Martian and "this" is normal talking out loud, this will remain the same forever so I'm only explaining once. It's not exactly rocket science so I figured that was okay.

* * *

**-Talon POV-**

This was the second time in my life that I woke up in a bed and I strongly suspected that I could get used to it. Beds are _comfortable_. However, they are also suspicious. I mean, I got from never having a bed to having a bed twice in a row? That sounded a little too good to be true. There was no way something that convenient could possibly be happening to me. Plus, I was being chased by Deathstroke the fucking Terminator. There was no way I could've gotten away in the condition I was in. There was some sort of very blurry fight happening at the end of my memories, but the likelihood of whoever it was actually _winning_ against Deathstroke the fucking Terminator is low. Very low.

"Are you actually going to wake up this time or are you going to fall back asleep?" The voice from before - Superboy, I remember his name was - asked.

"I guess I'll get up now," I agreed, opening my eyes properly for the first time since the fight with Deathstroke the fucking Terminator and looked around. JJ - whoever that was, I hadn't actually met him yet - had been right. This _did_ look like a medical ward, just not one that I was familiar with. All the walls were a comforting of-white yellow instead of the clinical grey I was used to and there were curtains around the beds. The medical ward I was used to had metal slabs and restraints. I knew I hadn't been recaptured, at least by the same people. These ones seemed more friendly.

"Are you in any pain?" Superboy asked.

"No, I'm good." I nodded my thanks for the question, flexing my wings subtly to test myself and appreciating that my previous injuries couldn't even be felt anymore. Neither of us had anything to say after that so we both fell silent. It was comfortable, not faking a conversation or making small talk. Superboy and I were inspecting each other. I estimated that he was not concealing anything and probably wouldn't be very good at it if he tried. His eyes were just too expressive, even if his face seemed permanently fixed in some form of scowl. Overall, he seemed okay. I must've checked out under his inspection too because there was a slight relaxation of Superboy's shoulders to indicate his approval. I gave the slightest of nods in appreciation and the corners of his eyes softened slightly in response. He was definitely a good guy.

The door opened, breaking through the silence we were enjoying.

"I hope Superboy had been answering all your questions," Batman said as he entered and took position standing sentinel at the foot of my bed. He did not sit, retaining a position of authority through his height. Superboy and I shared a brief glance. _Did __he_ _know we were supposed to be having a Q &amp; A session? _There as a nearly imperceptible shrug of his shoulders. _Apparently not_. Maybe we were both just socially awkward. Either that or there was some sort of unspoken rule about asking questions after being unconscious for a long time that nobody had bothered to teach me. I decided to take the petulant rout to handling the Batman, at least at first. I wanted to test my boundaries slowly and establish how much leach I could get out of this place compared to the old one, being nosy would be a good first step.

"Who are you people? What do you want? Where am I? Why did you take me? What kind of medications are in this IV? What happened to Deathstroke the fucking Terminator? Who brought me here? What happened to the labs I was being kept at? Have any of the scientists been detained? Did you find Red Arrow? Is his hand okay? Has he fully recovered? May I speak with him?" I asked everything as quickly as I could, all in a rush. _Take that, Batman_, I thought, _Now tell me what I want to know_.

Batman was impervious to my attempt at extracting extra information. "I am Batman, this is Superboy. I'm affiliated with the Justice League and Superboy is a member of the Team. We wanted to cut off Lex Luthor's supply of Nth metal. You are in the medical ward of the Team's base, which they insist on calling 'The Cave of Badassery' for some reason. We took you with us because Red Arrow insisted we protect you and because you needed medical attention that a normal hospital could not have provided. The IV is just a saline drip, no additives. Deathstroke lost interest in you after the Team arrived and left. The Team brought you here with the assistance of Red Arrow. The labs you were kept at are being investigated and much of the information and data they had there is being recovered. Most of the scientists and staff that were on duty have been captured but some are still at large. Red Arrow was the one who called in the Team and his had is fine. He is uninjured. You may speak to him next time he is here, as he is currently attending his classes at college."

Batman's answers were exact, not giving away any more than he had to. By answering everything I asked, he was demonstrating his trustworthiness, but I wasn't going to believe for a second that Batman didn't know interrogation techniques out the wazoo and could totally control this situation. The Lab had given me some serious paranoia issues. I had to remind myself that I didn't _mind_ giving away their secrets because I held no loyalty to them, despite my training screaming at me not to reveal anything. Being tight-lipped wouldn't help me get out of here unharmed and that was my priority. I didn't have to worry about what the Lab would think about my decisions because that wasn't what mattered here. I just needed to get out alive and live to see another day. That's what mattered.

"Do you mind if we ask some questions of our own?" Batman asked. _So __that's_ _what they really want_. Cut off Lex Luthor's supply of Nth metal my ass. Sure, that's what they wanted at first, but now? Now they had access to something better: me. I was an asset and I knew it. Controlling me was advantageous. Just because I wasn't loyal to the Lab didn't mean that I was loyal to the League. I didn't want to escape just so that my leash could be held by a different hand. That wasn't good enough for me. But I could play this game. The honesty and helpfulness of my response would of course depend on the type of question. _Bring it on_.

"Ask whatever you want," I challenged subtly. "I have answers." _Not all of which are free though, you may need to give me something in return_. Batman would understand the implications of my phrasing. He was smart like that.

"How much do you know about your own genetic makeup?" Batman asked me.

"It isn't pretty," I told him, testing him out. Batman already knew. Hell, he probably knew more than I did because he had seen my files. That was fine. Superboy didn't know anything other than the fact that I had wings. I saw the question in his eyes but also his willingness not to ask and let me keep my secrets. It was that willingness that made me willing to answer. I didn't bother telling my story to Batman, just Superboy. Him I trusted and I wanted to prove that he wasn't wrong to put his trust in me too. "I am a modified clone. When Hawkwoman was captured, she was pregnant with Hawkman's child. That baby did not survive the extraction from the womb due to it's youth. It did, however, supply Thanagarian DNA to the Lab. The Lab modified and cloned that DNA. That clone was a failure. That clone is now dead. The process was repeated an unknown number of times, resulting in me. I am unsure who's or what type of DNA my genetics have been altered with or what number clone I am in the series. Due to the extremely profitable nature of my wings," I gave a cautious glance towards Batman but he gave no outward sign of interest, "and their ability to supply free Nth metal, there was talk about keeping me alive even after I resulted in failure." I _definitely_ implied that the Nth metal supply would cut out if I died. I wasn't sure if it was true, but if it gave the Justice League incentive to keep me that way then that was a good thing in my books.

"I'm a clone too," Superboy agreed, nodding to me. Sharing his own story after I had given mine as a trade. "Cadmus got a hold of Superman's DNA and filled what gaps they could with Lex Luthor's. Aqualad, Robin, Kid Flash and JJ rescued me and together we started the Team. You can stay here if you'd like."

I reexamined Superboy. He wasn't lying. Obviously. And I could tell he meant well. But I wasn't sure he quite understood me the way he thought he did.

"So you're a finished product then?" I asked. Superboy's eyes betrayed his confusion at the term. "If you don't know what I'm talking about then you definitely are. I am not the end result of a series of experiments. I'm just a step in the process, not a finished product like you are. It isn't the same. You're perfect, or as close to it as they can make you. I'm a failure waiting to happen." Superboy frowned at me. He still didn't understand but he could guess and obviously some of his guesses were close to the mark because he didn't like them. I knew he was a good guy.

"Would you like to meet your parents?" Batman asked, interrupting slightly.

I was completely baffled. Not only had that question completely derailed the conversation I was having with Superboy, but it didn't make any sense. "I don't _have_ any parents. I am not the child of Hawkman and Hawkwoman. That child is dead. I'm actually pretty sure that child was female, which I am not. I'm not even a clone of that child what with all that had been done to me. I'm not even a full Thanagarian of the same species as them. Why would they want to talk to me?"

"You are as close as they'll get," Batman pointed out blandly.

"So I am meant to act like a replacement for the child they lost?" I asked. "No thank you. That isn't right. They deserve closure after their child's death. My presence would only make things worse." I didn't mention that I didn't have the right to call them parents either after everything that had been done to me. I wasn't their kid and I couldn't fool myself into thinking that I was. It was better this way.

Batman obviously did not see things my way. "They already know of your existence."

"WHAT?!"

* * *

**-Wally West/Kid Flash POV-**

We were all hanging out in the kitchen, discussing what to do about our possible new addition that Supes was watching over when JJ leapt up in alarm and spun about, an array of knives appearing out of nowhere, fanned out in each hand as he dropped into a defensive position. "Da fuck was that?!" he shouted, glancing around.

Miss M backed away immediately, apologizing at a million miles and hour. And I know what a million miles an hour looks like. It's fast. "I forgot!" she exclaimed, "We talked about this earlier but you weren't there! And I'm sorry, JJ, I didn't realize because you were- um, elsewhere and I didn't mean to-"

"That wuz telepathy?" JJ asked, frowning now, head cocked to one side. His knives were still out and he was still in his stance but I knew from experience that was just because he forgot to put them away, not because he still sensed a threat. It was always nerve-wracking on some level when JJ forgot he had weapons out, but knives were less unsettling than guns so I let it go for now. JJ carried guns less often as a concession to Batman too, which helped my peace of mind.

"Uh, yes, it was," Miss M explained shyly, "I'm sorry. I forgot that you are supposed to ask permission on this planet. It's not like back home. Everyone uses telepathy so it isn't such a big deal there and I didn't mean to intrude or scare you or anything. I'm sorry."

"That's not my issue," JJ dismissed. "I- It's just- Is that safe?" JJ wasn't looking at us, instead staring intently at the microwave as if he were addressing his question over there. He must have seen the reflection of his knives there because he started putting them away one by one while he talked. "I heard once… that Señor Green tried that with- with the Joker an'… it was unpleasant. Da- the _Joker_ was braggin' all about it. 'E was crazy proud that 'e was too… that Señor Green couldn't manage to... What I mean is, am I… like that too? Am I too... like him?"

I sucked in a breath. JJ had never liked his dad. His mom? Sure, he loved her right up until she tried to kill him, maybe even now. But his dad… I think he blamed the man for driving his mother insane, for the pain he caused, for destroying his childhood, and more than anything for the genetics which made them the same. Insanity was in JJ's blood. It doesn't matter what a person's intentions are, everyone slips up on occasion. Everyone had bad days. But with JJ… people tend to die painfully on his bad days. Sometimes he cracks as some sort of self-defense mechanism, but not always. Rob and I can't blame JJ for what happens when he's like that. But somewhere along the line, he started blaming himself and that was even worse.

Batman had taken some convincing in the beginning but he got used to the idea and accepted JJ in the end anyway. That guy didn't trust easily so Rob and I just considered it an accomplishment. My Uncle Barry wasn't sure what to make of JJ at first and then just decided to treat him like a normal kid. Aunt Iris was taken with him immediately. Uncle Barry and I once kidnapped JJ, for Christmas. For a little bit, I thought we could get him to stay with us. JJ was already gone when we got up the next morning. He walked all the way back to Gotham on foot. Neither of us tried kidnapping him again, though we constantly offered for him to stay.

"I…" Miss M obviously didn't want to lie to JJ and hadn't thought of this issue before. "Let me just test it out, okay?"

JJ nodded. It was a tense moment. Rob and I glanced at each other. JJ would be _crushed_ if he couldn't do this. If his mind hurt Miss M too much for her to look at. If he were too crazy to be part of the team. That's how he would see it anyway. Aqualad gave me a look, unsure of if he should be interfering somehow and helping JJ, wanting to be helpful but unsure how to help. I held up a hand for patience on his part and while he frowned, he also shifted back into a slightly more neutral stance.

JJ grinned. I could feel Miss M expand the connection to the rest of our minds. It was amazing how quickly we had all adapted to the sensation of having another mind present in our heads and how easily we could identify each other. It felt natural.

'You mean it's not a problem?' JJ sounded obviously ecstatic and partially relieved.

'Not an issue in the least,' Miss M promised him earnestly. 'Your mind feels different, but so does everyone's really. As long as I'm not intentionally digging through your memories - which I would never do - it's fine. Communicating is easy. It's no problem.'

'YAY!' JJ shouted internally, jumping up and hugging her tightly. 'Mental confetti!'

There was a burst of color behind my mind. It was the strangest sensation. I didn't see anything and wasn't hallucinating with my eyes, but I _felt_ a flurry of JJ's boundless energy, color and joy at being part of the Team. Rob and I smirked at each other. The Team would be good for JJ.

'Congratulations, my friend,' Kaldur nodded to JJ,walking over to put a hand on his shoulder, 'I am glad that this worked out in our favor.'

'Yeah,' Robin grinned, 'me too.'

'Where _did_ you pull those knives from anyway?' I asked, 'They just sort of appeared.'

"Secret pocket," JJ shrugged.

"There's a special lining on the inside of his hoodie. There's five on each side," Rob reported.

'That spoilsport,' JJ complained mentally. 'Selling out my secrets. I'll get him for that.'

'We can still hear you,' Rob pointed out amusedly.

"Damn it!" We all laughed. Yes, the team would be very good for JJ. It might even be just what he needed. Maybe we could help the new kid too while we were at it.


	11. The Kent Family, Plus Additions

**WARNINGS: ... so much fluff. There is so much fluff. Also plot, but mostly fluff. Oh, and just to be clear, underlined words are spoken over the phone, just for the intro/flashback part. **

* * *

**-Bruce Wayne/Batman POV- -Three Years Ago-**

I glanced at my caller ID. Unknown name. Unknown number. On _this_ phone? This phone knew everyone. So it must be important. "If you'll pardon me, I need to take this," I excused myself graciously, making my retreat. I answered the phone when partially out of sight, down the hallway to the bathroom. "Who is this and how did you get this number?"

"Bossy B!" My phone shouted at me, making me pull away slightly, "Thank god you picked up! I need yer help! How do I fly a helicopter?!"

"JJ, how did you get this number and why do you need to know?" I could feel a headache forming already and he'd barely spoken three sentences. Three sentences that did _not_ mean good things.

"BECAUSE I'M GONNA CRASH!" I could now hear a persistent beeping start up in the background. "SORRY! I wasn't aiming for that, I promise," he told me. "At least tell me how to hover and stop spinning in circles. 'Cause I'm gonna throw up if this goes on fer much longer!"

_Well that's less than ideal_. "Are you in the pilot's seat?" I tried to confirm.

"No, the _pilot_ is in the pilot's seat! And before you ask, he's feeling very _dead_ right now and _way_ too fat for me to be shovin' anywhere! I'm too scrawny for this shit! And I fuckin' _refuse_ to sit on a dead man's lap! I have standards!" I couldn't tell if JJ was serious or just had a very poor sense of humor. I preferred to believe the former though my hopes weren't high.

I knew asking would be wishful thinking at best but, "What kind of helicopter is it?"

"Do you think I know?! It doesn't have missiles, I can tell you that much! Thank fuck, I probably woulda shot 'em by now by accident! And you suck at giving directions! I shoulda called Dickiebird! Do you even _know_ how to fly a helicopter?!"

"JJ, stop yelling," I ordered, more to help alleviate my headache than to keep him calm. We both knew JJ was yelling just because he had a good excuse to yell and not because he was genuinely panicking or afraid for his life. "Do you see the joystick?"

"That's this handle thingy I'm holding, right?" he confirmed. "I got this far on my own, thanks!"

"Center it, make sure it's not leaning to the side," I instructed patiently, or as patiently as I could manage.

"I know what centered means! Just hurry up an' tell me where the brake pedal is!" JJ demanded. "I am _still_ fuckin' spinning!"

Long story short, it took me fifteen minutes to teach him how to hover with his constant interruptions, in which time I'd arrived there personally as Batman and just bataranged up there and took the controls. Turns out, Joker had stolen the helicopter and the pilot along with it. Poor guy had no choice but to do as he was told but when he left, Joker planted a time bomb with Joker Venom. Pilot gassed to death. JJ had never been allowed out of the helicopter. Joker hadn't cared, expecting it to crash. If JJ had been any other person in the world, except the Joker himself, he would have died of exposure to the Venom. He was genetically immune though, through his father. We knew that now. We hadn't before.

"I woulda jus' jumped since we started kinda low but…" JJ glanced sheepishly up at the building he'd been trying to land on for the past half hour. The helicopter belonged to Gotham General, largest hospital in the city. Internally I shuddered to think what would have happened had JJ not been left behind, and hte helicopter been allowed to crash while the Joker Venom was still in its contagious stages. "Whatever," JJ muttered to himself before looking up at me. "Can I go to Arkham now? If I stay free Dad'll probably do somethin' about this."

"Yeah, kid," I agreed. Because no matter how easy it was to forget, JJ was just a kid in an abusive home. Granted he was criminally insane on occasion and completely annoying, but he wasn't his father reincarnate. Sometimes I wish I had seen that sooner. I had been so quick to save Dick, to make him into Robin, and yet I tried so hard to ignore JJ. And JJ probably needed me just as much if not even more. "Let's go."

"Oh, an' last I heard he was lookin' into gettin' some sorta bits for a dirty bomb," JJ added casually. "Don' think he's done yet though. Be careful, okay Bossy B? And say hi to Dickiebird for me, tell him I left a present for him with Racer, okay? Oh, and I hope he's not particularly fond of whatever dummies he tests them on, okay? They're meant to explode like that."

"No problem JJ," I agreed. "I'll see to it he gets the warning and maybe I can try and find some time for Robin to visit you while you're in Arkham, okay?"

JJ brightened. "Really?!" I nodded. Next thing I know JJ hugged me around the middle before racing off into the padded back of the police cruiser. They had to stop him to put handcuffs on before realizing his wrists were too small and he could just slip out.

"Cute kid," Commissioner Gordon commented, "Shame about the crazy in his family though, isn't it?"

Without a word I removed the sign JJ had taped to the back of my cape. Holding it up it read, '_Kiss me, I'm friendly!_' in big, bold, sparkly red letters. He had planned this.

"I said cute, not innocent," Gordon argued. "And hey, if it _was_ his father the sign would have exploded."

Well, there was that.

* * *

**-Superboy POV- - Now- **

JJ was staring at the television in abject terror. He curled his uninjured leg to his chest and clutched it tightly with his head down and shoulders stiff as though expecting a blow. His breathing was shallow and heartbeat much too fast.

"JJ?" I asked. I got no response. When I sat down next to him I got no acknowledgement either. I wasn't sure if he didn't know I was there or if he was ignoring me. It wasn't until I was getting ready to shake him that I realized what it was the news was going on about.

"...Joker is once again at large. This time his escape was not accompanied by Harley Quinn. The Joker's current plans and location are unknown, and in fact many believe that he is no longer in Gotham as there has been no discernible increase in crime rates as of yet. Gotham's Commissioner Gordon had this to say:" The screen temporarily cut to the picture of a graying man with a very impressively groomed mustache. "'Just because we don't know he's here doesn't mean we're not looking for him. I encourage everyone to remain cautious and make good decisions. Until there is proof that the Joker isn't here, we're going to keep acting like he is.' It seems Commissioner Gordon doesn't want a premature celebration of the Joker's absence. This is Cat Grant reporting for GBS News." I turned it off and put a hand on JJ's shoulder, now understanding what the problem was. JJ nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Oh! Hi, sorry, I wasn't listenin'," JJ apologized, "What did you say? I wasn' listenin'."

"Would you like to help M'gann in the kitchen?" I offered, knowing she'd be there and welcome JJ's presence whether he could actually help or not. "She needs someone to help her watch the timer so she won't burn the cookies."

JJ's eyes lit up, happy to be needed. "Sure!" he agreed, "I'll see what I can do!" He wheeled off, backwards at first then spinning in place and nearly tipping himself over as he sped on his way towards the kitchen before wheeling around and headed the other way. "Actually, I gotta better idea! I needta talk to Bossy B about something! Be right back!"

I smiled to myself. It was good to see JJ so eager about something. If I could help him, I would. And so would everyone else. The Joker would not be allowed to hurt one of our own a second time.

* * *

**-Batman POV-**

"Bossy B?" JJ asked, looking up at me. I knew that face. Anyone who spent any significant amount of time with kids knew that face. It was the begging face. The face that all children have when they want something. Usually it's employed to get candy or stuffed animals, things like that. But there was no telling what JJ was after this time. Once he wanted to drive the Batmobile. Once. The less said about that incident the better. Commissioner Gordon still thinks it's funny. I do not. I never did. I had to pay for it.

"Yes JJ?" I kept my voice cautiously neutral. I wasn't worried about JJ, just about what trouble it might be he was getting into this time around. I knew he never meant anything but the best, but it was still JJ. It's nearly impossible not to worry.

"May I borrow Superboy fer a field trip, pretty please?" he asked, eyes shining up at me from his wheelchair. His arm was out if it's cast, so he could steer himself without it being electronic, but JJ's leg still wouldn't support his weight and he wasn't ready for crutches she he was still relatively confined.

"That would depend where you plan on taking him," I informed the kid. I knew better than to agree right off. There was no telling the type of trouble JJ could get into unsupervised, and Superboy was still too young to count as supervision, physiological age notwithstanding he had existed for under a month.

"That would depend if I have to make a detour an' hack the Batcave first or not," JJ replied evasively. It was a bad sign for the benign nature of whatever it was he had planned this time.

"Why would you need to hack the Batcave, JJ?"

JJ looked up at me, milking the begging face for all it was worth. "Mr. Underwear's parents 're human, right? Well, I wan' Superboy to meet them. I figured 'ey could help 'im pick a name." JJ gave me his very best hopeful look.

Huh. Now there was a thought. Clark wasn't listening to me about Superboy. I had already tried and failed to convince him that the boy needed his father. The kid needed a family, and positive adult influences in general. Jonathan and Martha Kent were good people, some of the best I had ever met actually. I couldn't see them reacting badly to the news that their alien son had unintentionally had a cloned child with a nemesis already at the physiological age of a teenager. Most people would freak out, but the Kents were remarkably accepting of that sort of thing. They might even help Clark figure out how to handle all this. I made my decision. "There's no need for you to hack the Batcave. I'll give you their address and information. But you have to remember to respect Superman's secret identity and not to endanger the Kents, alright? Their civilians and I will not allow you to put them in danger for any reason, not even to help Superboy," I warned him firmly. "Am I clear?"

"I know the bro-code," JJ agreed earnestly, obviously somewhat offended that I had felt the need to bring it up. "I ne'er talk about secret identities. I've known Dickiebird's since forever, remember? I know most of the League anyways. I just keep me mouth shut like I should. I'll tell Superboy an' we'll go then, okay?"

"You're taking the Bioship, not the Batplane," I added firmly.

JJ visibly deflated at the news, obviously disappointed. "You still won't lemme drive, huh?"

"I know better than to let you get behind the wheel of anything that belongs to me," I agreed.

"Still holding a grudge, huh?" JJ whined. "I crashed the Batmobile one time!"

"You crashed the helicopter too," I reminded him. "Right next to a hospital. With a bomb inside."

"There were _extenuating circumstances_ and yo know it!" he complained. "If I hadn't pranked you right after would you even remember that incident?" JJ groused unhappily.

"I'm Batman. I remember everything." And don't you ever forget it you little brat.

"Yeah well I'm JJ. And I suddenly find myself remembering that you're no fun." Despite that, I still got a quick hug about the waist before JJ danced away, eager to go an an adventure with his friend. "Be back soon!"

"Will you be sleeping in the Cave or the Mansion tonight?"

"I guess that depends on Superboy."

"Just let me know where you are."

"'Kay, bye!"

* * *

**-Superboy POV-**

"And you're _sure_ it's okay for you to fly the bioship?" I confirmed, checking his seatbelt and the brakes on his wheelchair. I was invincible, but JJ was not. I was much more worried about him than me in the event of a crash. And considering the fact that I _knew_ we were _not_ flying in a straight line, it seemed prudent to be prepared.

"Sure, sure," JJ assured me carelessly as we flew over yet another cornfield. "I can totally handle this. It's way easier than flying a helicopter and I flew that just fine, better than the actual pilot anyways. Bossy B's just sore over the Batmobile incident."

"What happened to the Batmobile?" I asked before wondering if I actually wanted to know. Let me just reiterate that I did not feel safe with JJ at the wheel of the Bioship.

"Aah, well um, I may have slightly crashed it into the police station a little bit," JJ acknowledged casually. "But no one got hurt so it was all okay in the end. They needed to repaint the walls soon anyway. Redoing the wall instead wasn't that much different."

"I think it's my turn to drive now," I decided. JJ should definitely not be allowed behind the wheel of _anything_. There's no way Batman would be okay with this.

"You can drive on the way back, okay? This is my turn," JJ informed me. "There's no chair here right now anyway." I glanced at JJ's wheelchair and his injured leg, still held out in front of him, braced at a right angle to his body. It was mostly healed and he'd be able to use crutches soon with his accelerated rate of healing, but not yet. JJ was still an invalid for now, and hating every second of it. Still though…

"This is a Bioship. It can _make_ a chair easily," I argued.

"We're here!" JJ cheered happily. I had the sudden sneaking suspicion that JJ was just as much of a troll as Robin was. While I did wish I was wrong about that, I didn't have much hope. JJ was obviously a troll.

"Where _is_ here, exactly?" I asked, following behind the shorter boy as we disembarked the Bioship. We were on a farm. In Kansas. In the middle of nowhere. JJ hadn't told me much ahead of time other than we were going on a field trip and yes, he actually had the Batman's permission.

"This is Kent Farm!" JJ informed me happily, wheeling towards the main house with enthusiasm.

"And what is at all significant about Kent farm?" I asked. "It wasn't mentioned in my Cadmus programing, so I don't think it's significant."

"Oh it's important alright. It's-" BAM. JJ blinked and looked down. There were stairs leading up to the porch. JJ's wheelchair was not designed for stairs. He backed up some and tried again. "It's-" BAM. "It is _in my way_ is what it is. Sorry, give me a sec. I got this." JJ twisted around in his wheelchair, reaching into his belt and underneath for various parts and tools. He started assembling something with an intense frown on his face. When I stepped forward to help he immediately put a hand up saying, "I got this," before returning to his work. Whatever that was.

"What are you doing?" I asked curiously.

"Building a flamethrower." I decided right then and there that that sentence should never again be uttered in such an obviously carefree manor.

"No, JJ. No. You do not need a flamethrower to get up the stairs. That won't help you. See?" I picked up the entire wheelchair from behind easily and set it on the porch. Was he supposed to be _that_ light? Especially excluding the weight of the chair I was also carrying, JJ weighed next to nothing. I resolved to mention it to Batman just to be safe. "It's not a problem."

"But now what am I supposed to do with this?" JJ whined forlornly, holding up what most people would mistake for a toy gun considering its size. It didn't look like a flamethrower at all. It was too small. Was it a mini flamethrower? Can that happen? Nevermind, this is JJ. Obviously it can happen. It's JJ. And JJ was currently armed with a mini flamethrower. I resolved to proceed with caution. Kent Farm most probably did not require burning to the ground.

"You can just hang onto it for now," I offered. "Try it out later, okay? Just not in the house."

"I know that," JJ insisted, leaning forward in his wheelchair to knock on the door.

"Where are we again?" I asked, realizing we'd gotten off track.

The door opened to reveal an elderly, kindly looking woman. Her face was wrinkled with more smile lines than anything and her eyes were sparkling happily. She had an apron on and had obviously been baking something, though her hair would have been white regardless of the flour that was in it an all over her clothes. She seemed somewhat surprised to see us, well, me mostly. I'm not sure she noticed JJ at first, he was a bit below eye level after all.

"Oh dear," she said, "De-aged? That's new, is that a thing now? Come inside, dear, come inside. Will it wear off? Do we need a cure? What's the plan this time? Whatever it is we'll handle it."

* * *

**-Jonathan Kent POV-**

It took a while to explain that no, the boy was _not_ a de-aged version of our son but instead an entirely different person. To be fair, it was an easy mistake to make. It also took a while to get the smaller one in through the doorframe because of his wheelchair. He had to be carefully angled in sideways in order to fit the wheels through without hurting his leg. At one point he aimed some kind of a gun at the doorway angrily but the older boy confiscated it quickly enough that I wasn't too worried. That being said though…

"If you aren't Clark, then who are you?" I asked. I wasn't an idiot. In fact I'd prefer to think I'd gained a little wisdom over the years, not to mention common sense. If they meant us harm and knew where we were already there was nothing we could do about it. But they were just kids. The little one was injured anyway, so they obviously didn't come looking for any kind of trouble.

The one who was Not-Clark seemed like an awkward kid, unsure of himself under the bluster. Given a proper hand in guidance he could turn out well. He looked like he needed one, seeing how out of hid depth he was. The green-haired kid was a bit chipper, and needed an entirely different sort of guidance, not so much to coax him forward but to point him in the right direction and hope he didn't run over anything important along the way. "I'm JJ," he chirped, as happy as can be, "An' this is Superboy. Wha' happened was someone (totally Baldy) got ahold ah Mr. Underwear's DNA an'-"

"Maybe you should let me explain, okay JJ?" Not-Clark, Superboy offered. I nodded in thanks.

"Yes, I think that would be best," Martha agreed. "It's his story after all," she added, seeing as JJ looked terribly disappointed not to be telling the story. He nodded to that, accepting her logic.

"Somehow, Project Cadmus got a hold of Superman's DNA. They also had Lex Luthor's. Because they couldn't clone fully alien DNA successfully, they mixed the two and created me. I was rescued by JJ, Robin, Aqualad and Kid Flash just a little while ago," Superboy informed us concisely. He hid his nervousness well, but not well enough seeing as he had his arms crossed and couldn't seem to look at us anywhere but our feet.

"Mm-hm!" JJ nodded. "Just over a week or so. Quick favor though? Could you help us pick a civilian name for him? Because I _cannot_ create a nickname for someone who doesn't have a real name and I don't have any sort of right to go picking that for him. I don't like real names."

Martha and I glanced at each other. That certainly wasn't what I was expecting when I got up this morning. I mean honestly, the things our boy got himself into, and he still hadn't told us. A cloned son with a man who hated him? That was one we'd never heard before. These things just sort of happened when you had a son like Clark. But we became accustomed to it long ago and it didn't mean that we loved him any less. Besides, the kid obviously needed a home. Martha and I always did want grandkids, same as we had always wanted children. We may not have gotten them the usual way, but that was fine.

Martha became a whirlwind of hugs, dragging him off to the kitchen, offering up names left and right and receiving awkward, stuttering responses in return.

"Just make sure it starts with a C!" I called after them, "I love the alliteration in Clark's real name and it may as well become a tradition." I watched as Martha took to being a grandmother like a duck to water. That woman was born with enough love in her heart for the entire world, I was delighted that she chose to share so much of it with me. I sat back a bit to watch.

JJ though, he was a strange boy. And he had sad eyes as he watched the newly dubbed Conner be fussed over in the kitchen, being bullied into helping Martha with the baking just out of earshot. I couldn't help but notice the longing there and worry about what it meant. JJ was just a little thing, a twig of a boy really. He shouldn't be trying to look after the troubles of someone bigger and (not technically but physiologically) older than him the way he was.

"Something bothering you boy?" I asked him.

"Nothing," he dismissed automatically. I gave him my best papa bear look and his resolve crumpled like tinfoil. Wise boy. "It's just that I recently decided to become an orphan and discovered that it sucks. I'm glad I got to help Jumper though. He deserves a real chance."

"You talk like you don't," I noted. Honestly, how old _was_ this kid. Barely getting started on his lease on life and already such a dismal outlook.

JJ's eyes darkened. He had such old eyes for such a young face. I knew a veteran when I saw one. Maybe not from a war like most of the ones I was familiar with, but JJ had left some kind of horror behind and it left its mark just the same. The boy's voice went cold. "Have you ever killed anyone, Mr. Kent?"

I considered JJ properly for the first time. Not just a cursory examination, but gave him a real look. Now that I wasn't distracted by Conner-who-wasn't-Clark I noticed some things. JJ was injured pretty thoroughly for being so young. His clothes were terrible and his complexion pale. Too pale. And with the green hair I made the connection. 'Did he deserve a chance' indeed. But I still hadn't answered his question. "No, I haven't," I told the boy. "I don't know anything about killing a man. I know all about animals though. Just about any sort of animal will fight back when it gets backed into a corner. Humans are not the only species out there that kills, not by a long shot. Killing and dying is a part of the animal kingdom. Anything that eats meat kills. We are, however, the only species that murders folks. Have you ever actually _murdered_ anyone, boy?"

He hesitated, as though to think about it but didn't break eye contact. "No." The word seemed more like a confession than anything else. "I've wanted ta though. And I've tortured people an' messed 'em up pretty bad. Some of 'em _chose_ to die, after. I may 'ave severely injured one or two along the way."

"Did you enjoy it?" I asked for elaboration. I noticed that the kitchen had gone silent and hoped Martha would keep Conner from interrupting. JJ needed to get this off his chest. Honestly, did the boy even have anyone to confide in?

"Sometimes I would hear myself laughing, but no. No, I don't enjoy it. Really I don't, I _swear_," the child said, head down and staring at his hands as though remembering the feel of blood on them. "It scares me." JJ hugged himself and hunched over his injured leg defensively.

"Then you're still a good person." JJ's head shot up and he opened his mouth to interrupt me but I just held up a hand for silence, once again utilizing the papa bear face. "Sometimes bad things happen to good people. You know that, you've seen it. They're just in the wrong place at the wrong time, the victims of circumstance or sometimes birth. You are a good person to which more bad things have happened than average, but you, yourself, are still a good person."

The boy was crying now but trying to hide it by pulling up his sweatshirt's hood and pulling the drawstring closed. "I c'n still hurt people though. By accident! An' I don' wanna. I just- I'm _workin'_ on it. Aye don't _like_ being crazy. Ah'm dangerous. E'eryone should jus' stay away. I'm poison. Ah'm jus' too selfish an' too scared ta leave like I should."

"So you're dangerous, so what? How does that make you any different from Clark?" I challenged harshly. That philosophy the boy had gotten stuck inside his head like a poison would _die_ and I would see to it. Nobody deserved to think like that about themselves, nobody. "You've seen his strength. He can break just about anything- by extension any_body_ easily. He's got to go through life like the whole world's made of cardboard but it hasn't stopped him. He goes out there every day and tries to help anyway. He's dangerous too, just in a different way. It took him years to get the sort of control he needed but he got there."

JJ just cried. "I was 'apposed to be _him_ but I _can't_ an' I don' want to! I- I know, I'm sorry. I can't- I jus' can't! I've _tried_ controlin' it an' it jus' _don't work_ an' I'm _sorry!_" The boy was yelling now, mostly incoherent. Conner was in the doorway, fists clenched and muscles straining where he stood, imobalized by my Martha's hand on his shoulder. He wanted to interfere but either wan't sure how or knew better. JJ was still shouting, "I didn' _ask_ to be a freak or a monster or a bastard or a killer or a psycho! I don' want to! I don' wanna be evil but I'm _not good enough__!_ I don' _deserve saving!_"

And that was when Conner's self control snapped.


	12. Green-Flash-West Family

Hal was crushed. So he went to see Barry. Somehow in the process, he had sort of… forgotten that Barry had Iris now and that was a thing and they were very much so in love. He wasn't sure how. Hal had been listening to Barry's starry-eyed ramblings for several mon- well, over a year now actually. Had it really been that long? Barry's nearly nauseating level of infatuation with his girlfriend had only gotten worse when they'd moved in together and gotten engaged.

So when Hal went to go crash at Barry's, he accidentally crashed with Iris West too. It actually turned out pretty well. Hal just hadn't seen it coming. In retrospect, he really should have. It was a long time coming.

* * *

"I never liked her anyway," Barry said firmly. "I know I was never supposed to say anything because of the bro-code and she was your girl, but I honestly never liked her."

Hal just sort of stared at his best friend in the whole world. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." Barry confirmed briskly, "Carol wasn't good enough for you. I never liked her."

Hal seriously hadn't anticipated this reaction. "Wha- but, Barry, your opinion should have been more important- why didn't you _say_ anything?"

"I figured she made you happy, so I kept my mouth shut about the whole thing." Barry shrugged, looking away awkwardly. "Figured it wasn't my place."

"You are such a sap," Hal decides because he's not sure what else to say.

"Yes, he is," Iris confirmed, placing an entire _tray_ of cookies on the table. _Homemade_ cookies. Shaped like stars and decorated with _chocolate chips_. And then she manages to make the _Flash _share his _food_. Hal decides that Iris is an angel. Or possibly a secret badass. Either way, he absolutely adored her almost immediately. "He's such a sap. Do you want to hear why? I'm pretty sure I can recite from memory at this point."

"Recite what?" Hal asks, having no idea what he's getting himself into.

Barry looks distinctly embarrassed if the reddish tint to his cheeks is anything to go by. "Iris, no, he doesn't have to-"

"Oh, hush," she orders teasingly. There is both honest love and a fierce determination in her eyes that never fails to make Barry melt to her every whim, so he doesn't bother protesting anymore even as Iris explains to Hal _exactly_ what her fiancé Barry thought of Carol Ferris. "She's not good to you or good enough for you. You're far too fun-loving, outside-the-box to match her by-the-book, play-by-the-rules philosophy. She was too career-oriented and no fun and was always going to choose her job over you when it came down to it because she cared more about herself and her future than any possible 'distraction' and expected _you_ to understand that while refusing to adapt to _your_ schedule or needs – which, let's face it, is much more important considering what your job actually _is_. She didn't show any interest in you as anything more than a professional coworker and possible friend until after you revealed yourself to her as the Green Lantern. You both burnt that bridge in your late teens and then went back and burnt it again with some lava thrown in there just to be extra sure. Childhood friends who dated as teens do not automatically make a stable _adult_ relationship, especially when one of you seeks stability and permanence and the other is after adventure. She was always the one taking more out of your relationship emotionally because you made her feel beautiful and important and _loved _but she never really returned the favor like she should have because she was 'too busy'. There were way too many times you didn't hang out with Barry when you went on last minute dates with her instead because her schedule opened up. Your heart's too damn big to settle for someone like her." Iris took a deep breath. "Now I personally have never met the woman, but if I ever do I may have difficulty not slapping her from everything I've heard about her."

Hal just sort of stared some more. Barry said all that often enough that Iris could recite it by heart? That was just… wow. Okay, so maybe his and Carol's relationship had stopped working a long time ago if it ever worked in the first place but _still_. He hadn't expected an ode to all the ways his relationship skills sucked. Granted, it somehow came off as rather flattering and - "Dammit. Barry, I'm hugging your fiance."

"Get over here," Iris ordered in good humor. "It's not like he'll stop me anyway."

Iris noticed though that the hug was definitely being given to her, not the other way around. Maybe it wasn't entirely Carol's fault after all. Hal clearly had a tendency to devote himself entirely to a thing - even a thing so small as a hug - and that was a hard level of effort to match. Barry joined the hug. Iris smiled into Hal's shoulder, pleased. Now everybody was hugging. The difference between giving a hug, getting a hug and hugging may seem like a small thing, but she was pleased nonetheless.

Hal though was not remotely done with his emotional rollercoaster of a day. It just felt so good to be hugged for once and... "I thought it was love." Hal hadn't meant to say it out loud, but there it was.

Barry made a face and Iris (again, will miracles never cease?) managed to divert another case of her fiance's foot-in-mouth-syndrome acting up. "You'll find love," she promised. It was better than Barry saying 'you don't know what love is' when he really meant 'you deserve to be loved for real' in the way speedsters tend to speak faster than they think sometimes. "She just wasn't your one," Iris explained.

Hal looked between Barry and Iris and the way they were even now subconsciously leaning towards each other slightly. He wanted to ask Iris how he was supposed to find something like that for himself but couldn't find a way to make the words sound anything other than depressing or needy and so refused to say them. Iris must have been able to read them in his eyes despite that.

"Love is … love isn't in owning a person's time or in having the same goals or any of that nonsense," Iris explained. "Love isn't just about making someone else happy. It's making someone happy because them being happy makes you happy. It's the little moments when you're just so grateful to _know_ this person, never mind get to be close to them. It's knowing more secrets about them than they maybe know about themselves. And yeah, sometimes people don't love you back. But that's life. And you heal. And eventually, everything turns out okay."

This was when Hal realized he was screwed, thoroughly and utterly screwed. He was in love with his best friend and maybe always had been. This was the same best friend who had a fiancé, who he was currently living with and who he also worked with during the day. There was no avoiding this one – not for long anyway. Hal wasn't a good secret keeper. _How_ was this his life?

* * *

"Here," Iris offered, sticking something in Hal's hand.

He stared at it. "Why are you giving me a pint of ice cream?" he asked. Not that he was complaining. This was Ben and Jerry's. And it had chunks of chocolate, fudge, and caramel in it. No one turned down ice cream like that. Except for Carol because she was on a diet again and- damn it, now he was depressed again. "Seriously, why do I have this? There's no bowl, just a spoon."

"When a girl goes through a breakup, this is how we handle it," Iris explained. "With their friends, unhealthy amount of ice cream straight from the carton and stupid rom-com movies that nobody actually watches because they're too busy bitching. It'll be good for you. We're doing it."

"So we just sit around eating ice cream?" Hal asked.

"And insulting Carol Danvers behind her back?" Barry confirmed hopefully. That part was important to him. He liked the sound of that part.

"Yep." Iris nodded.

"Why do _guys_ not have this tradition?" Hal wondered.

"Because it threatens your masculinity. You're all supposed to sit around bars and complain and wake up with hangovers like real men," Iris dismissed. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

Hal looked at Barry. "I see why you love her."

Barry just beamed at him.

* * *

Hal woke up sprawled on the couch and drooling into Barry's shirt. Part of him didn't want to move. A very large part of him rather enjoyed waking up to see Barry's sleeping face (even if he was drooling too) propped up on the arm of the couch while wrapped in warm, strong arms and listening to a resting heartbeat that was just a little faster than a normal human's should be. Of course, the rest of him is freaking out because this is _Barry_ and seriously did he need to figure this out _now_ and since when did he pay attention to the way Barry's eyelashes were just as blonde as the rest of his hair but looked positively gold in the morning light filtering through the windows anyway?! At least Hal had already known he was bi. (Ha! College was good for something other than just his pilot's license!) That was one freak out he could live without being piled on top of everything else. Torn between staying there forever and running away before Barry could wake up and catch him staring at his sleeping face like a creeper, Hal forced himself upright, gently untangling Barry's arms as he did so, before padding to the kitchen.

Iris was already up and making breakfast to fit a speedster. She baked, wielded the healing powers of ice cream and now cooked. No wonder Barry loved her.

"Oh good, you're up," Iris greeted without turning away from the (truly impressive _mound_) of scrambled eggs she was making. "Feeling any better?"

Hal was surprised to realize that despite having new and different problems, yeah, he was feeling better. "Still sucks, but yeah. Thanks," he said. "And I'm sorry about crashing so unexpectedly. I somehow forgot that it wasn't just Barry anymore – and I have no idea how because he never shuts up about you – and I just came over without asking. So sorry about that. And I'm sorry that you've been putting up with Barry's rants about my relationship status because I know what he gets like sometimes. I used to tell Carol-"

And suddenly there was something caught in his chest. Wincing, Hal put a hand against it and pushed, trying to dislodge it but it wouldn't budge. Iris looked at him with sad, understanding eyes and quickly moved everything off the burners before she opened her arms to him.

Hal couldn't help it. He wept into Iris's shoulder. Actually 'wept' implies that these were manly, solitary tears that rolled down his face nobly like in some sort of dramatic rom-com. Hal did not cry like that. He'd always been a messy crier. With puffy eyes and snot and red cheeks and the sort of sobs that get yanked from the back of the throat and absolutely break the heart of anyone who hears them.

This is what Barry walks in on that morning. (He was really hoping for breakfast Damnit, but Hal _was _actually more important than food so…) Iris gave him a completely unnecessary head jerk indicating that he needed to join the hug or he'd be couched for a week and Barry complied, coming up behind his best friend and wrapping his arms around both Hal and Iris – the two most important people in his life. (So far.) Hal cried harder. Barry kissed his shoulder blade before resting his cheek against it.

"I know I'm supposed to say something that makes everything all better," Barry admitted, "But the only sentence that's coming to me is that I really hate Carol Ferris for doing this to you. You're too damn good for her and you're heart's too damn big for your own good."

"Hypocrite," Hal croaked out, tears still flowing.

"Shut up, I'm trying to be emotionally supportive right now," Barry ordered. "It's a strain. Don't distract me with your problems."

"My problems _are_ your problems right now," Hal pointed out, trying to joke and mostly succeeding. "That's the problem."

"Then it's good that we don't mind," Iris told him.

The hug tightened.

* * *

Hal was laughing. "_That's_ how you found out? Because he talks in his sleep?" Hal laughed harder and Barry looked distinctly embarrassed. "Seriously? It took you that long?"

"I didn't deal with superheroes every day like you do!" Iris defended, smiling broadly even as she did to show she wasn't really offended. "How was I supposed to know? I didn't recognize the signs! Though in retrospect, it _was_ kind of obvious."

"Barry is the worst secret identity keeper in the league," Hal dismissed. "Half the Rogues probably know his identity by now."

Barry looked away a little too quickly.

"Barry?" Iris asked, still amused but now equally suspicious. "Just how many of the Rogues _do_ know your secret?"

"Uh… I'm not sure really. I think… okay, so Len knows. And James was really drunk so he probably doesn't remember but it may have been mentioned. I don't think Mark knows actually, we don't get along so-"

Hal laughed. "You see? Central is great. You're _friends_ with most of your enemies. On a first name basis and everything. I hope you remember the rest of the world doesn't work like this. If I tried making friends with Sinestro, I'd die. Well, either that or be drawn in by the power of Yellow Fear but really that would be just as bad if not worse so-"

"Naw, you're too good to get drawn in," Barry dismissed, unbelieving. "And too stubborn."

Hal wrinkled his nose. "That's what we used to say about Sinestro. Look what happened to him. He was my mentor I-" Hal cut himself off. This wasn't what he had meant to talk about. He shouldn't have brought it up. But Iris gave him _that_ look and Barry actually paused to figure out how to phrase the question he wanted an answer to without his foot-in-mouth syndrome acting up and… Hal really hadn't meant to bring it up. But he found himself talking about it anyway. "Sinestro was my mentor entering the Corps and he was an asshole and a purple faced bastard. But he was also really brave and determined and charismatic and-"

"Oh please tell me you didn't have sex with a supervillain," Barry interrupted looking seriously upset. "Please tell me I'm wrong here and you didn't-"

"_No_, okay? No. Nothing happened. There was just always this tension and when he went Yellow he came back and he was mad at me for not following him and-"

"Oh my god. You are cursed," Barry realized, feigning shock. "You're cursed. All your relationships are cursed. There's a pattern!"

"Barry," Iris scolded, giving her fiancé a look. "Leave Hal alone. Like he said, we asked and we're supposed to then listen."

"Sorry, love," Barry replied.

Hal wasn't paying attention to what they were saying anymore. All he could think was that Barry was right. He was cursed. Why else would he be so alone in the same room with two people he loved and cared about? He was cursed.

* * *

They fit together well. Hal wasn't sure how or why, and there were times when he wasn't sure how it had happened or how he deserved it, but he certainly never complained. Hal loved living with Barry and Iris, despite feeling like an unneeded intruder most of the time. Neither of them ever let him feel that way for long. He never wanted to leave. And much to his surprise, he didn't want to go back to Carol or have Carol want him back either.

Green Lantern Hal Jordan, super hero extraordinaire and intergalactic war veteran was not and had not been in an abusive relationship. But he had been in a neglectful one, as he was coming to learn. Carol had been very controlling, wanting to know where he was all the time and what he was doing, wanting him to spend more of his time with her whenever he went off-planet. She preferred him with his Green Lantern Corps uniform on than with it off. He had constantly needed to apologize for her at social events, which he never wanted to attend in the first place but needed to go to as Carol's plus one. She was his boss; she knew it and she acted like it all the time, even outside of the workspace. Their relationship hadn't been healthy. He'd pursued her as Hal and got shut down and then she pursued the Green Lantern and got stuck with Hal instead. Neither of them had been truly happy with what they got but pretended to themselves and to each other that it was what they wanted because they didn't want to admit that they'd made a mistake.

And now he was living with Barry and Iris. Hal was actually pretty sure he tripped over his tongue the first time Iris asked him how his day had gone because he hadn't known how to answer the question. He'd been out of practice. Barry would beat him to doing the dishes before Hal could even offer and then smile at him like he knew what he'd been thinking somehow. The jerk made Hal's heart flutter a little bit sometimes. And Iris… Hal loved her too. And that made everything worse. Iris West was beautiful and she was kind and passionate and completely cool about the whole superheroes-who-fight-evil thing and… seriously, Hal had issues. Hal had serious issues.

Mentally, he was kicking himself even as emotionally he was healing from his time with Carol. In his head, he ranted and screamed that nothing good could come of this. Nothing good would happen because he would screw up eventually and he needed to stop noticing Barry's smile and Iris's green eyes and the warmth of Barry's hugs and Iris's tendency to straighten ties when they were already straight and Barry's incessant pen clicking and Iris's habit of tucking her stray hair behind her ear when it was already back. It made his chest hurt and his eyes sting sometimes. And then other times he was lighter than air and his cheeks ached from smiling. Those were the times when Hal forgot that he didn't belong there. That he wasn't really a part of the soon-to-be-Allen household and that he didn't have the right feeling like he did.

Things couldn't possibly continue as they were. Not with Hal being in love with his two… housemates. Well, and okay, Barry was also his best friend in the world. But that was beside the point. The point was he couldn't stay. Not when he went to sleep some night wishing he was in Barry and Iris's bed instead of the guest room. Not when he wanted to run away. Of course, Hal was a Green Lantern and one thing Green Lanterns weren't supposed to do was chicken out and run away.

And so Hal stayed. And he never wanted to leave. Which was the whole problem all over again.

* * *

Being a superhero is dangerous. Hal Jordan was a superhero. Naturally, his life was in peril and endangered more or less every day of his life. Sometimes he came closer to death than other times though. It was part of the job. It was what he signed up for, and if he screwed up and got himself killed then oh well. That was on him. The ring would one day find it's own successor. One day, the sun would rise without him.

'Maybe today.' Hal thought. Then the explosion hit and he didn't think anymore.

* * *

Barry was not appeased. "Fucking god, Hal! I thought you were really gonna die for a minute there! You _were _dead! For a full minute! Your heart stopped! Fucking shit!"

"I'm not sure why I need to apologize for almost dying," Hal complained. "I'm okay. It was an accident and I'm okay. It's not a big deal."

"You don't get it?! I thought you were dead! I've never been so terrified in my life! I thought I was going to have to go home to Iris and tell her-" Barry choked up a little and chose not to continue. His shoulders were tense under his suit and Hal felt guilty for the first time. "Do you have any idea how long a minute is when you have super speed?" Barry whispered. With his cowl pulled back and staring at the ground, it wasn't hard to guess. A minute was too damn long.

"It's not like I did it on purpose," he defended.

This was the wrong thing to say. Barry hit him in the shoulder, hard enough to bruise though thankfully on the opposite side from his cast. "_Don't_ even go there," Barry hissed. "You've been making increasingly stupid decisions ever since you and Carol split. It doesn't matter how good you are at smiling through the pain when I can see you damn near _trying_ to get yourself _killed_ in the field with your fucking _carelessness!_ Don't you _dare_ joke about this. It's all about Carol. It's always been about Carol Ferris and now you're not even together and she's still taking you from me!"

Where the heck had _that_ come from? Hal honestly hadn't thought about Carol in nearly a month. Not since he moved in with Barry and Iris really. "It's not about Carol! That's not what this is about!"

Barry looked genuinely _angry_. It was an expression Hal had never seen on his face before and it didn't suit him at all. "The what is it?!"

"This is about you!" Barry reeled back from Hal's words as though he'd been struck by something. "It's about you and Iris and- _fuck_." 'In for a penny, in for a pound,' Hal figured, 'I may as well tell him. This day can't possibly get much worse.' "Fuck it, Barry. I've been in love with you and your stupid smile and goddamn fucking dimples since we _met_. And I was too much of an ass to figure that out and then Carol happened and that ended horribly and now- Now there's you and there's Iris and fuck but she's beautiful and fantastic and how does that woman have so much love all the time and you deserve each other you really do because you're both just so wonderful and _meant_ for each other you love each other so much and look so good together and damn it all but you're right and I'm cursed because everyone I've ever loved wants something or someone else and-"

"You love us?" Barry asked, voice quiet. The question didn't seem to indicate surprise or anger or any other discernable emotion. It was surprisingly (terrifyingly) blank coming from Barry Allen, one of the most cheerful men alive.

"Did I not _just_ say that?" Hal demanded. "because that's what I me-_mph!_"

Faster than Hal could blink, Barry crossed the room and forced their lips together. Hal was pretty sure that was all the time it took for him to have a miniature heart attack, but he was too distracted to be sure. Because _holy shit _where did Barry learn to do that thing with his tongue and thinking was definitely too much effort to be worth it right now. There was a hand in his hair and he was craning his neck to get more leverage out of the damn med bay bed and Barry's other hand was _exploring_ lower and lower and Hal's good arm was wrapped around him and-

Someone cleared his throat. Barry and Hal sprang apart much faster than humanly possible. It was the goddamn Batman.

"No making out in my medical bay," he ordered. He said this without cracking a smile, completely deadpan. Barry wasn't sure how. He chalked it up to Ninja Bat-Powers. If anyone other than Batman had tried to say that sentence they'd have smirked at the very least.

"Uh- right," Hal agreed, regretting that he wasn't still kissing Barry and still mostly dazed. That pain medication was doing wonders for him right now actually. Or maybe the kissing. Probably the kissing to be honest.

"Normally, we'd be keeping you overnight for observation," Batman began. "Because you were _dead _for fifty-six seconds this morning and it's a miracle Wonder Woman was able to restart your heart in time. But, largely due to the forecasted size of the complaint Superman will lodge if the medical bay ends up smelling of sex and semen to his super senses, I'm not going to do that. After firmly reminding you that you really _shouldn't_ be doing any strenuous activity in your condition, I'm releasing you from the medical bay. Go home you two."

And with that he left, cape flapping behind him.

"Batman is awesome," Hal remembered. "Seriously, Batman is awesome."

Barry grinned, moving back to his previous position hovering over Hal faster than a normal human could blink. "I know. But you know what that meant, right?" He kissed Hal on the lips once quickly. "It means," he murmured, moving his lips against Hal's skin and refusing to pull away, "that I," he sucked on Hal's pulse point, "get to take you," whoa that spot was sensitive, "back home," Barry nibbled his earlobe, "to _Iris_," their lips were close enough to brush against each other with every word and Hal shivered at the mention or Iris's name, "and we-"

"I said _not_ in the med bay," Batman's voice cut in over the speakers. "I already have to erase the surveillance footage. Get out of my Watchtower already."

"Damnit!"

Then again, Barry was the fastest man alive. And Zeta beams could get you to earth pretty fast too. Hal didn't even have time to object about being carried princess-style before they were back at the house. The rewards were worth it.


	13. The Death & Return of Jason Todd

-Jalal POV-

"Well _fuck_ dude. You've got balls."

Naturally, he shrieked and jumped back. I can't help but think the shriek was actually rather girly. Especially for someone who had the balls to steal the tires off the Batmobile. I mean seriously. Balls. Of. Steel. Or brains of mush… not quite sure which just yet.

"Fucker! Why'd you scare me like that?! I thought you were the Bat!" I looked the boy over. He couldn't be any older than me. Obviously just another street rat. But still… a street rat with balls of steel.

"'M not the Bat," I agreed. "He is." I pointed behind him. The kid whirled. And found himself facing a brick wall. I snickered. "Sorry, had to do that."

"You are a dick," the boy accused. "Piss off."

"Nah, my brother's a Dick. And I like it here."

"Then stop distracting me. I'm busy."

"Yeah. Busy stealin' the wheels off the _Batmobile_. You got a name or am I jus' callin' you 'Balls of Steel' from now on?"

"..." He seemed to be concentrating very hard and I was resigning myself to giving him a mouthful of a name when he mumbled out, "Jason," without looking up. "You?"

"Jalal," I offered. "Nice ta meetcha, Jaybird."

"I said my name was Jason, not Jaybird."

"I know," I told him, nodding amiably from on top of the Batmobile. "But I rename all my people. I plan on keepin' you, so you'd best get used to it."

Jaybird gave me an extremely suspicious look. "You're too young to run part of human trafficking."

I gave him a look telling him he was a moron. "Duh."

"What do you mean 'your people'?"

"I mean my people like him," I pointed at the roof above Jaybird, grinning.

"I'm not falling for that one again."

"Then look in the reflection on the window of the car," I pointed out.

Jaybird yelped and stumbled back, clearly not having expected Bossy B to _actually_ be anywhere near his car. I giggled happily.

"Jalal," Bossy B said seriously. "Are you trying to take in strays again?"

I think my grin might have nearly split my face. "Hey, Bossy B! Can I keep him?! He's got balls of steel and his name's Jaybird."

"Jason. I told you already. Jason Todd."

"I like Jaybird better."

* * *

-Jalal POV-

"Bossy B? I gotta bad feelin' all 'v a sudden… have you seen Jaybird? I've got a bad feeling. Something's wrong. Tell me where he is. Have you seen him?" I could feel myself sobering up. My stomach was tying itself in knots.

"Well, I haven't seen him since this afternoon," Bruce commented. "Why? Do you know something?" Batman asked, suddenly worried about his Robin.

"What? I- no. I don't _know_ anything," I admitted. "But- something's just _wrong. _Where is he? I- _Jason!_ I need my Jason!"

Batman gave me the address on his tracker. He was in Crime Alley. I was already on my motorcycle. I could feel my heartbeat in my chest even if I couldn't hear it with the wind whistling past my ears. I'd forgotten my helmet but sure as hell wasn't going back to get it. I had to get there.

I didn't think I'd make it in time. I was right.

The building wasn't just on fire, it was practically gone already by the time I got there. I went in anyway. I found him. I pulled him out. He still had all his parts attached and everything.

"I've got you, Jaybird, it's okay. You're okay. I got you. Jaybird, you're good. Yer fine. I gotcha. 'M 'ere. Aye gotchyeh. Yer good, Jaybird. Yer good. Yer still good." But Jason didn't answer me. He didn't answer and he wasn't breathing either. "C'mon, Jaybird. Wake up. Yer gonna wake up now. You jus' gotta…" I think I knew already, that he wouldn't. I think I knew. But I just didn't admit it. I didn't know how. "Jaybird?..." That couldn't be my voice; I'd never heard myself sound like that before… "Jaybird this isn't funny!" I tried. He didn't react. "Stop- stop jokin' aroun'! I- You need to wake up!" I tried shaking him. He didn't respond. "I- you need- I- need you- just- I… wake up. _Please?_" I knew I was crying then but still couldn't admit why. "Please, please Jason?"

There was a hand on my shoulder. I wasn't sure when Batman got there but he did.

"He's… He's gonna- He can still wake up, right?" Batman's jaw was tight for all that I couldn't see his eyes behind the mask. "He's gotta. Right?"

"He won't wake up, Jalal," Bruce said. "Jason's-"

"HE'S GONNA WAKE UP!" I screamed, clutching his bo- HIM tight to my chest in a way that wouldn't be good for him if he were- if he wasn't… if… "Bruce, I really need him to wake up," I whispered softly, almost silently, terrified of the truth that I knew was coming. I could feel tears all over and couldn't breath through my nose but that didn't matter. I couldn't feel Jason's warmth anymore. That's what mattered. There was this big fire but Jason felt so cold… how was he so cold already? There should still be some warmth left over.

"Jalal… he's not going to wake up."

And I felt myself break.

* * *

-Bruce Wayne/Batman POV-

Jalal completely fell apart after that. He just screamed. Didn't even try to use words, just screamed with all his strength at the top of his lungs, occasionally choking on a sob only to scream again. At me, at the sky, at the fire, at himself. Not at Jason though. Jason he wouldn't let go of. Jalal clutched Jason's body to him like a lifeline and occasionally hiding his face into it. When I reached out to touch him, he shied away like a wild animal, dragging Jason's body with him. I don't think he knew what was going on anymore and I knew that while his insanity was clearly in control right now, for once he didn't want to hurt anything. He was the one hurt this time around. It did not make me feel any better.

I managed a few words to Commissioner Gordon about a police perimeter and firetrucks when he showed up, but not much more than that. Jim seemed just as broken up inside as I was, but not quite as good at hiding it. He turned and started barking orders though. I won't lie and say that I was still functioning properly, but I could still go through the motions of the Batman. I could still fake it. And I had a job to do so I did it. My top priority was getting Jalal and Jason's body out of here. My own grieving would have to come later.

I tried talking to Jalal but he couldn't seem to hear me at all. Didn't react to his own name, nor Jason's. When he seemed to be winding down I tried approaching again only to be met with more screaming. I don't know how long it took before he started clawing at himself with his nails on his arms and face and I deemed it necessary to just straight up tranque the kid and knock him out before he could do himself any serious harm.

Jalal had already been injured when I got there. A few minor burns and something must have knocked him on the head at some point while he was in the building because there was a trail of blood down one temple. I don't think he'd noticed. In the process of me trying to calm him down he'd scraped his knees and backed onto some flaming debris several times.

I carried both boys to the Batmobile and headed back to the cave. It was the worst drive of my life.

* * *

-Alfred POV-

I'm a butler. The closest I get to permitting emotional outbursts in front of other people is mild sarcasm and the highly occasional exclamation of shocked surprise. I did not break down when Master Bruce called ahead to warn me on his way home. I did not cry when I had to make the call and inform Master Dick or the other children of what had happened. I didn't cry when I bandaged Mister Jalal's injuries, obviously self-inflicted as they were. I didn't even lose my composure when I watched Master Bruce breakdown in tears for the first time since his parents' death.

But I did shed a tear when I went to check on Mister Jalal the next morning.

Master Bruce had suggested (and I agreed) it was necessary to handcuff Mister Jalal to the bed in the medical wing, seeing as he had already attempted self-harm and we didn't want that happening again if we could help it. He wasn't there when I went in the morning, having apparently picked the lock somehow at some point in the night. Jalal had removed the curtain around Master Jason's body and curled up next to him, head over the larger boy's chest where his heart lay as if he could still hear it beating. He was mumbling things as though his friend could still hear him. Meaningless, trivial things about the weather forecast and the football game the Gotham Knights had that weekend. What food they were going to have there. How he was planning to hide his green hair. Where he kept the tickets before the game. How much he was looking forward to going.

That's when I wept. Because now Jalal had to go alone now, if he could go at all.

Jalal disappeared for a month and a half after Jason died. No one could find him. The entire team and Justice League searched, and couldn't find one boy. Were it almost anyone else on the planet, that would indicate that he were dead and someone had completely annihilated his body and hid it in various places around the globe, possibly outer space. With Jalal… it just meant he didn't want to be found.

On the second night after Jason's death, a call was put in to 911 emergency services.

"_Hello. I'd like to report an attempted murder. Or assault. Fuck it who cares. Anyway, the address is in the narrows, but you should come anyway because I can pay and because Batman will be here soon and he'll call you himself if you're not already on your way. Have a nice fucking day- night. Fuck it_." ***Click***

That night the Joker was admitted into the emergency room of Gotham General and transferred to Arkham before the anesthesia wore off enough for him to wake up. He showed signs of torture, including electrocution, burns, cuts and beatings. The attacker was never filed. Quietly, and against much disapproval, several members of the Gotham Police Department toasted to Laughing Jack that night. None toasted to the Blue Jay. Due to the extent of the Joker's injuries and the necessary recovery time, he did not escape for another thirteen months. This was a new record since his first appearance nearly two decades ago.

The night after that a message was left on the answering machine (which was just called the answering machine, not the Bat-answering machine because even Batman had his limits) in the Batcave. That should have been impossible because the phone would have been picked up the moment it rang, but it happened anyway. The exact same message was left in the Cave and the Watchtower at the exact same time.

"_Don't look for me. I'm busy. I want to be alone_."

* * *

One week after Jason's death, Jalal sat on a cheap mattress somewhere in Xi'an completely despondent. He wasn't quite sure how he got there or what he had done the past few days. There was a knife held against his forearm, and it was in his own hand. He wasn't bleeding yet. Jalal pushed a little harder, and he was. Part of him didn't even feel it, though he'd hoped he would. It was so hard to feel anything anymore. Food tasted like ash when he chewed it and swallowing was difficult. He didn't feel hungry enough to eat, despite rationally knowing that he needed to and that he hadn't for the past two days. Maybe he'd find the strength to try again tomorrow.

Jalal was afraid to sleep, afraid to dream. Sometimes he'd wake up and forget Jason wouldn't be there. Sometimes he'd remember that Jason wasn't supposed to be there with him in the dream anymore. Sometimes he wouldn't remember and wake up to the realization. Sometimes he hallucinated. Sometimes he wanted to, to have some pale reflection of Jaybird on his consciousness, but couldn't. Sometimes he couldn't sleep at all, just stare up at the ceiling or the stars, depending on where it was he'd lay down and not move for hours at a time, just dazed and exhausted and so, so lost.

He'd lost the ability to tell if he was crying or not and he didn't care really if he was. Jalal felt compelled to keep moving, not to stop and to just keep putting one foot in front of another, to stowaway on one more train, to forge one more identity and hop one more plane to nowhere. If he stopped moving… Jason wouldn't be there. He wasn't sure he could deal with that.

Maybe he was looking for him. Maybe he was trying to find his Jaybird somewhere out in the world. Maybe if he checked behind one more corner he'd see Jaybird's blue-green-blue eyes and that bright smile he always had to answer. Maybe Jaybird would find him. Maybe he'd find an answer. Maybe he'd find something that would kill him too, if only because he was so bone achingly, heartrendingly tired of searching. Jalal never found anything. He wasn't sure there was anything left to find.

* * *

Batman received a call. "_Talk me out of it_," he heard. The voice was young, male early to mid teens, and more importantly, he recognized it. This was bad. This was very bad. Batman did not panic. Batman was the goddamn Batman and the goddamn Batman did not panic. (Bruce Wayne panicked.)

"Jalal," he asked, trying very hard not to demand, "Where are you? What are you about to do?"

"_I'm going to fix it,_" he answered, there was a certain tone to his voice that the Batman couldn't quite name and some part of him that might have been Bruce desperately didn't want to. "_I'm going to make it stop. It's for the best really._"

"Jalal, what are you doing?" There was no terror in his voice. He couldn't allow terror. The Batman didn't feel this kind of fear. (Bruce was a father, of course he was afraid.)

"_I'm holding a matchbox. It's such a small thing, don't you think? Just a small thing… It's so much better this way though. So much better._"

Bruce panicked, barely managing to retain his calm voice as he frantically traced the call. "Jalal. Do _not_ light that match, alright? Don't do it."

"_It wouldn't really be much of a loss. A good thing really. End it all. I can do it, Bossy B. I can make it stop,_" Jalal offered hopefully. "_No more __hurting_."

The call was from the Narrows- an abandoned apartment building. He was still in Gotham. Right under their noses and they hadn't found him. Batman wasn't surprised; Jalal was very good at hiding when he actually chose to disappear, despite his frankly horrible disguises.

"Jalal, please, don't do this. Think about Dick and Wally and Roy and the rest of the team," and yes, he used their real names over the COMs, he was that desperate, "What would they think? How would they feel?"

"_Why do you think I'm __doing_ _this? I feel- I- I can't-_" and here Bruce heard a suppressed sob and he wasn't sure if it was a good sign or a bad one, but his heart squeezed all the same. "_Boss, I can't __do_ _this. I- I need- Fuck. He took him and he's gone and I can make it go away! I can stop it and it hurts and please, __please__. Just let me do this. I don't want to do this. Please. It's easier. Just- just- __help me._"

Bruce wasn't sure what Jalal was asking for any longer. He didn't think Jalal knew either. The boy had never been good at thinking when his emotions got in the way. It was easy for him under pressure, better even, but emotions he just didn't know how to deal with. Jalal didn't know how to think his way around them. He never had. So Batman kept talking, trying to talk the kid down from doing something they'd all regret. "They can't lose two brothers. Not like this."

"_Boss, I'm already lost._"

The Batmobile skidded to a stop. Batman was exiting the vehicle almost while it was still moving.

He didn't find what he thought he would.

Yes, the room reeked of gasoline. Everything was dripping with it, from the ceiling to the walls to the furniture and puddles were collected on the floor almost an inch deep in places, some dripping down through the cracks in the cheap floorboards in places where the carpet had been torn up. Yes, Jalal was holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder, tears passively sliding down his cheeks, considering the matchbook and match in his hands with a morbid fascination that chilled Bruce to the bone and made the Batman stop short in the doorway. And yes, Jalal had been about to kill himself. But there was more.

For one thing, Jalal wasn't alone. There was a man on the floor in front of him. A man who looked like he had been tortured extensively with a variety of tools and then beaten with a monkey wrench. A man whose blood was leaking out and mixing with the gasoline on the floor. A man who was clearly unconscious, but still breathing easily, wounds untreated but life out of danger so long as he received proper medical treatment within the next hour or two and the explosion wasn't triggered. A man the Batman recognized, and hated. A man who called himself the Joker.

Jalal dropped the phone and it landed with a wet sounding thunk on the mattress. "I can stop it, Boss. I can end it all. Him and me. No more Joker, no more worrying about Laughing Jack getting away from me. Fix everything. We're what's wrong with Gotham. We- I- I'm scared, Boss. I wanna see my Jaybird again. Please. Please, I-" The tears escaped him then, and that seemed to break the dam because Jalal couldn't control the force of his sudden sobs anymore as they wrenched out of him. "Please just tell me what to do!" he begged. The force he was using to grip the matchbook crushed it completely, ruining its usefulness but it didn't look like a conscious gesture. "Please! I can't keep taking this! I _can't!_"

Bruce crossed the room and knelt, taking the matchbook and the match out of Jalal's hands. He didn't fight him.

"The right thing is never easy," Bruce remembered. "But that's why you're strong. So you can try and do it anyway. Jalal… this isn't the right thing. This is giving up. This is running away. And I know you don't want to hear this, but it's not what Jason would have wanted."

"It's easier," he whispered back. Jalal looked up and met Bruce's eyes through the cowl's lenses. "The world would be a better place if I had never existed. If _we_ hadn't."

"You have always tried to do good. Sometimes I didn't see that, but it is true. Sometimes you failed, but you still tried. You saved Leon from starvation. You saved Calvin from his rage. You saved Zatara from becoming Dr. Fate and Zatanna from becoming an orphan. You saved Red Tornado's siblings. You created the Blue Jay. You helped _save the world_. And some day you'll have the strength to save someone else again. Jalal, you _are_ good, for all your faults that you have already overcome. Come home. Your team needs you, especially now."

"I'm scared, B. I'm so scared."

"So am I. So please stop scaring me like this. Come home."

"…For tonight."

He was gone by morning.

Not even the Batman could find him.

-Ra's al Ghul POV-

"Sir, there's a man here. We think he wants to see you."

"What do you mean 'you think'?" I demanded. "What did he say?"

"He's said nothing," my subordinate reported dutifully, "He just kept walking and when we blocked his path he just stood there."

"Who is it?" I inquired, "Did you recognize him?"

"I have never seen him before but he does have green hair."

_What is that __madman_ _doing here?! I thought for sure that the Batman would have killed him by now! At the very __least_ _he's locked up in Arkham and in a body cast for the next several months!_ "Send him in," I ordered evenly. It does not benefit a leader to be surprised by such a small upset. "I will speak to him."

"Yes, sir."

It was _not_ who I was expecting. He was far too young, not even properly a man yet by today's standards. But I didn't require introductions. He looked just like his father after all. But he wore an expression his father's face probably couldn't contort into if it wanted to: loss. His overly-green eyes were broken, completely shattered and every inch of him spoke of a painfully wary grief for one so young. The tears just kept falling and every now and then his shoulders would jerk as if he were holding back a sob. I watched blankly, waiting for him to get to the point. I was over six hundred years old, I'd learned the virtues of patience centuries ago. I knew when it would pay off. He was obviously gathering what strength he had left in him to speak. He had something to say.

The boy (for he looked far too young and nobody had ever mentioned his name to me before) managed a shuddering breath in before he began.

"An assassin," he choked up a bit but held it in, "I can respect. There's a purpose. A _meaning_ to what you do. Money, power, politics- I don't fucking _care_." He paused, struggling not to lose his composure and failing for a moment before regaining control. "The Joker?" He couldn't even use his father's name without choking up. And suddenly there was a murderous fire in his eyes. "There is no honor in that. No reason. It's just death and _pain_ and… just _wrong_." Several pained pants filled the air. I noticed that the Joker's son mastered his anger much more easily than he mastered his pain. "You do not use the _Joker_ as a _distraction_." There was so much venom in his words that I saw some of my men reach for weapons but I held them off. That was not what the boy had come here for. "What it is that you _mistake_, your _miscalculation_, your _failure_ has cost me… No. Never again. It was my own failure as well and you may not have fully understood what you were doing but… _never again_." The Joker's son looked me in the eyes for the first time, still incredibly broken. "And I know there ain't shit I can do to threaten you but please. Just, please. Never again. I can't ask for more than that. _Please, never again_."

We both knew he was done then.

I nodded and offered him a ride back to Gotham. He accepted tiredly. My men reported dropping him off at Arkham Asylum the next morning. They also sent his thanks for my help with his travel arrangements. How considerate of the boy.

* * *

-Dick Grayson/Nightwing POV-

"You know, I heard you checked into Arkham on your own but I didn't quite believe it until now," I commented as lightly as I could. "You look like shit, Jalal. When's the last time you slept?"

"Without being drugged first?" he joked halfheartedly. It sounded more as though he was repeating the sentence from memory than he actually meant anything by it. "I dunno."

"You _have_ been eating though right?" I asked for confirmation.

He shrugged. "When they feed me, yeah. I can still eat. It's just that I don't get hungry on my own anymore. I forget. Could be worse."

"And your injuries are all healed by now, right?" I asked, already knowing the answer to that one. Jalal healed very well, always had since I'd met him.

"You can read all of this on my transcript, which is pinned to the door," Jalal observed mildly, "But yes. I am uninjured. They should have named you 'Mother Hen' instead of 'Dickiebird'."

"'They' didn't name me, my name _isn't_ Dickiebird, it's Nightwing and I'm not a mother hen," I defended just as halfheartedly as he accused. "I just wanted to see how you've been doing. We were all really worried when you disappeared."

"I didn't kill anyone. I wanted to but I didn't," Jalal offered, growing desperate. "You gotta believe me. I didn't. I promised him I wouldn't anymore and I won't. Not without expressly stated permission from a sane person. Those are the rules now. I didn't break them."

"I believe you Jalal," I promised, interrupting him before he could work himself up. "And we were more worried about what might happen _to you_ than about what you might do."

Jalal just shrugged before asking, "How's… How's- Whatsername? Barbie? No, that's definitely not it."

"Batgirl?" I suggested, smiling slightly.

"Yeah, that's it, the Brabat," his lips quirked weakly at the name. "How is she? I never really talk to her..."

I gave him a glance that said 'I know you're changing the topic' and he returned with one that said 'please'. Actually, it was more like, 'please, please don't make me talk about this, please, I can't take it' but I didn't want to read that much into it. This hurt me too. "That's because she's always hated your guts ever since you two met, but she's hanging in there. We all are. The Team misses you."

"I… Nightwing," Jalal used my real name. Well, my real code name but we were on camera so it was as close as he could get. I knew he was serious right now. "The only reason I was sane enough to be of much use to you guys in the field was thanks to my Robin. I know… I know that I look okay for right now but… it comes and it goes. Seeing people feels good but I can't handle much more than one at a time. The doctors here are helping me. I… don't know how long it'll take for me to get back on my feet, but I know it's long ways away if I can ever become fully sane again that is. As things stand I just barely qualify not to wear a straight jacket all the time. They're still afraid I'll start hurting me again. Hell, so am I. I do miss you guys… but I know that I'm just not well right now. When I can, I'll come back. When I can. But right now… I haven't even found all the pieces I need in order to put myself back together yet. Give me time."

"Time is something I _can_ give you," I agreed seriously before grinning, "But space I can't promise. Something tells me you're going to be getting lots of visitors."

Jalal smiled back. Or rather, he pulled on the muscles in his face so that his lips curved slightly upwards but at least he tried. "I think it'll be good to see everyone, just not all at once. I'm not _good_ with large groups anymore for whatever reason. I can feel 'em closing in on me, runnin' outta the air. Damn unpleasant sensation."

I pretended not to see him shudder. "You realize if you say they have to visit one at a time there'll be a tournament of some kind to determine the order, right?" I warned him, not even joking. "Suddenly this has the potential to get ugly."

"I kind of like the idea of you guys fighting over me," Jalal admitted. "Is that bad of me?"

"No, Jalal, that's fine," I reassured him. Because he needed lots of reassurance. "Anyone else I can get you? Anything?"

"My parents?" Jalal asked hopefully.

"Probably already waiting outside if I know them," I shrugged. "That doesn't even count as a request. It would happen if you want it or not."

"Bossy B?" Jalal offered timidly, "If it doesn't cut into his brooding time that is. Hate to interrupt that. Spin Cycle, since he doesn't need any sleep I'm sure he'll be available at some point. Insomnia's so common here visiting hours are whenever time you make an appointment for. Aunt Tweedy would be nice, but only if it doesn't steal from her patrol or you guys' training. Make sure Fabulous knows he counts as part of the team because I hate seeing that guy feel left out. And if you can convince them to get me a bag of freeze dried chicken wizzies that would be awesome. The food here sucks. Mostly because the only utensil I'm allowed is a spoon, but they could at least try to think of something other than watery soup."

I had to laugh at that, even if it sounded slightly broken and forced on my part. "I'll get on that. And I will be seeing you, Jalal. We all will."

"Yeah, yeah, get outta here," he ordered tiredly but trying to smile anyway. "You've got a city to keep safe out there in Bludhaven. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I promise."

* * *

-Kaldur'ahm/Aqualad POV-

I knocked on the doorframe, even though the sound of the bolts sliding would certainly have alerted Jalal to my presence already. "I hope you're not busy, Jalal, but I wanted to stop by and say hello."

He was sprawled out on his mattress (they didn't trust him with a bed frame and all the pointy parts that entailed) with his fingers laced behind his head, feet up on the pillow. "I wish I _were_ busy," Jalal disagreed blandly. "Nothing much seems to interest me anymore and I'm not sure if it's depression, medication or the fact that I'm locked in a box all day every day. I'm glad you visited, Gills. It's good to see you. How are things back at the Cave of Badassery?"

"A few minor missions," I reported casually. "No major injuries. A few minor fist fights among the new recruits over Wally's stash of freeze dried chicken wizzies. Although I must admit, I do not see the attraction. I have not tried them but I have read the ingredients list and they are repulsive. There is no actual chicken in it."

Jalal laughed bitterly, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of his mattress. "Hey, hey, don't knock 'em 'til you try 'em. They're pretty good, you know? And they actually do taste like chicken, for whatever reason." The darkness returned to his expression. "Or they did. Everything just tastes like ash these days."

I took a deep breath and sat down on the mattress next to Jalal. "I understand."

"You do don't you?" Jalal remembered distantly, staring off into space. "It's so easy to forget what happened to Ariel, what with everything going on, but you're already hurting, aren't you? I'm sorry. That feels cruel of me."

The use of Jalal's nickname for Tula sent a pang through my heart but I suppressed it. "No, I cannot blame you," I assured him, "You barely knew T-Aquagirl, as I barely knew Robin." I corrected myself at the last second, remembering that there were cameras in each corner of Jalal's room for observation purposes. I looked at Jalal, trying to get his measure and gauge his potential reaction before continuing, "I understand that the loss of someone we love can be crippling."

Jalal jerked out of his daze and reeled backward, blushing furiously. _At least I shocked him out of his funk for a second_. "I never said anything about that!"

"You never had to," I stated, mildly amused in spite of myself. "It was painfully obvious to all of us how you two felt about each other."

"I- you- just- we- he- _ugh!_" Jalal spluttered before giving up and flopping backward, arms sprawled out on either side of himself like a star. He was quiet for a minute, and I let him be. "You really think he felt the same way?" Jalal asked eventually, voice so small and borderline desperate it squeezed my heart.

"Yes, I do." It was a relief that I didn't even have to lie to him to make him feel better. Jalal could always tell when someone was trying to lie to him anyway. "Honestly I thought you two were already dating in secret and waiting on telling the rest of the Team. Not everyone may have recognized the attraction, but we all knew you two were incredibly close. That much was simply impossible to miss." I knew better than to turn and look at Jalal's face right now. He probably didn't want me to see him cry. I could feel the bed shaking slightly with the force of his sobs even though he didn't make a sound. "I promise you, he loved you back just as much. I could see it."

"I never said anything," Jalal confessed, voice heavy with tears. "I didn't know if I should. I mean- The one thing I can never change no matter how hard I try is that I'm my father's son. I don't want to be but I am. There's no changing that. And Jaybird… he was a _Robin_. He was _meant_ to be Robin. He loved it. I have no right, feeling like that. No right. And I never did."

It almost physically hurt to hear the longing in his voice. "You don't need a right to love someone," I argued, carefully reminding myself that it was Jalal's turn to cry, not my own and that I would not take away from that. "You have made a good person out of yourself despite all that was against you, my friend. Love is not something you can control."

Jalal sniffled pitifully. "You sound like a Hallmark card," he accused without much spite, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "What's next? The heart wants what it wants. True love never did run true? Oh, what about this one: Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?" I saw through his attempt to change the conversation and allowed it. I knew better than to push him when he was never far from the edge these days.

"Cliche perhaps, but it still holds true," I argued. The conversation moved then to cliches commonly found in movies and books. Then to what books we had read. Comparing Atlantean and surface world literature. It was good to see Jalal smile, even if we both knew he was mostly forcing it. "If you'd like I'm sure I could convince them to let you have some books in here. Paperbacks at least. I can't think of a way for you to hurt yourself with those."

"I can," Jalal cut me off immediately. "I could paper cut myself to death. I could try choking myself to death by eating the paper. It'd be tricky but I think it could be done. I know I'm not suicidal though, just… anyway, about those books?"

"I'll be sure not to point that out to them when I ask, alright?" I offered. "I'm sure some sort of argument could be made against leaving you alone to brew in your own thoughts. A few books could do you some good."

"Yeah, you do that, Gills. Sounds good." Jalal agreed. "See you around?"

"Of course," I agreed willingly, "though it may be a while. There's a waiting list of people who want to get in to see you. I'll have to put my name at the end of the list all over again."

Jalal chuckled emptily. "So they really did fight over me?"

"Actually, they were about to but I made us draw straws instead," I explained, amused by the memory. "Naturally, because it was my idea I got to cut ahead."

"Aww, Gills, you do care." Despite his teasing words, Jalal's face and inflection were heartbreakingly blank, but at least he was trying.

"Indeed I do, Jalal. I have never pretended otherwise."

As I turned to go, Jalal grabbed my arm and said, "Thank Dickiebird for the visits, would you? It's good to see people from time to time. And… I promise I'll be back as soon as I can. I just have to keep reminding myself that my grief does the dead no honor. Right? They don't _want_ us to stay this way." Jalal looked me in the eye.

I realized that he was talking about Tula and me just as much as he was talking about Jason and himself. "Jalal, for all that you are the youngest out of all of us, I sometimes wonder if you aren't the wisest of us all."

"Well, to be fair, I'm insane," he argued, though he lacked his usual flippant tone to his words. "That's an unfair advantage. And Fabulous has the wisdom of Solomon. He's got to have me beat in that department, right?"

"I suppose so," I agreed. "I think Superboy is next in the lottery, but I'm not certain."

"Well whoever it is, it will be good to see them too. You'll remember to ask about those books, right?"

"Of course, my friend. I'll remember."

He had been stalling my departure as much as he could, but I don't think he realized it consciously. Jalal didn't want to be alone, and I couldn't blame him.

* * *

-Kyd Wykkyd POV-

I had won the straw selection, or at least I'd come in first, but I wasn't actually sure what to do now. What do you say to someone who has lost their reason for living? Then again, Jalal seemed quite satisfied not to let me say anything. He rambled on about nothing, or rather anything from the moment he saw me and I stepped in the room. Just stringing words together and tossing them out like confetti. But they kept falling and eventually, he ran out of ramblings as his act slowly fell apart. I was surprised he managed to keep it up so long. It was almost a relief to not hear him speak in his flat, awkward voice. Jalal had spoken as if he were reciting the words or reading them off a screen, not as if he meant them. I'm not even sure if he heard what he was saying.

Slowly Jalal sank to the floor in the far corner from the door. "I hurt, Kiddo," he admitted quietly after an alarmingly long stretch of silence. "I hurt."

**You know**, I signed back at him, **I think once a person leaves fingerprints on another's heart, they never really go away. I would be shocked if you weren't hurting.**

Jalal started at me. "You know what's really sick?" he asked, "I don't _want_ to stop hurting. If all I have left is hurt… I don't want to let it go. I want him _back_, Kiddo. Why can't it be that easy?"

**Nothing good is ever easy. Missing him is not wrong. There are even times when, for all that I hate him, I miss Klarion. He was, for all intents and purposes, my father no matter how much he hated me. There's nothing wrong with honoring that. So I'm not going to tell you to let your Robin go. But you should maybe loosen the grip he has on you. You're acting as though you curled up in the grave with him. He would hate to see you this way. You know that. **

"I know, Kiddo. I know that… it just hurts is all. Everything hurts."

**I know**. And I held him as he cried until he fell asleep, and when he woke up again he cried some more until it was time for me to go.

* * *

-Jalal POV-

"Gills… you've gotten it into your head to do something that would worry me, haven't you?" I asked, knowing already that it was true. "You're going away for a while…"

The Atlantean hesitated before nodding in confirmation. "Yes. I'm leaving. Things have come up and… I will be unavailable to visit."

I started him in the eyes. "I can't talk you out of it, can I?"

"No, Jalal, I fear that you cannot. I have made my decision. Arrangements are already underway," he agreed. There was no wavering in his voice, his expression or his will.

"You know what you're getting into more than I…" I admitted reluctantly, unwilling to see my friend go. "But Gills, I need you to promise me something."

"What do you want me to promise?" he asked. I liked how he didn't just automatically agree. Somehow it meant more to me.

"You have to promise that, whenever you're done, you'll come back," I said. "I know that there are some things you have to do and I won't try to stop you, but when you've done them… you've got to come back home, Gills. Promise me, Aqualad. Promise me you'll come back in one piece."

Kaldur seemed to recognize just how serious I was about this. We were both silent for a frighteningly long time. "I cannot promise that I will return exactly the same as I am," he confessed, "These things can change a person."

"We all change, my friend."

Kaldur seemed then to accept that he had no choice in the matter. "When I am done, I promise to return," he agreed. "When all this is over."

I nodded to him firmly. "That's all I was askin' for, Gills!" I still felt hollow imitating my old self, but my psychologist said that the more I tried the closer I'd come to the real thing so I kept trying. I missed my real self almost as much as everyone else did, maybe more. "Good luck."

* * *

-Jalal POV-

Someone had broken into Arkham again. I could hear it. But I didn't really give a shit. I didn't want out. Nobody would be breaking anyone out of the _minimum_ security wing anyway. Nobody interesting was kept here. Hell, even Riddler was in double-max security most of the time. All the big names were, and they were the only ones who ever got broken out in the first place unless there was a riot. I decided to just wait it out. Nothing I could do from my cell anyway.

Then my door exploded off its hinges and fell inward.

"Wait… someone's breaking _me _out?" I asked, confused. "What the everloving fuck?"

The man standing in the doorway was wearing combat boots, cargo pants, biker gloves, a tight black shirt and a brown leather jacket. None of this got to me. But the man's helmet was red, designed like a full face mask with eyes and everything.

"Huh. Well, will you look at that? Red Hood," I observed. "Not very creative, but I must admit I like it better on you than the original. Superior sense of style. Much less like some sorta freak magician. Ditched the cape too. Capes are stupid anyway."

I looked him up and down. The man said nothing. It kinda pissed me off for some reason but I swallowed my anger. If he wasn't a hallucination (and at this point, he probably wasn't - the details were remaining consistent), I didn't want to have an episode and end up hurting him, whoever he was.

"So... you're here for some type of revenge?" I guessed. He shrugged. "Did I piss off your employer way back when?" He shook his head. "Did I piss off you?" Another head shake. "Well, if you're not here for me, then you must be here because of my father. I hate to tell you this, but you can forget about it. I can't help you. I won't work as bait, I don't know where he is, what he's planning and I swore I'd never kill again. Kinda wish I could make an exception, but what kind of promise would that be? Can't ask for exceptions from a dead man." I could feel my words picking up the pace, knew I was losing lucidity but couldn't really stop myself and couldn't quite force myself to really care. I was probably already hallucinating anyway. "I dunno if he'd hate me for keepin' my promise or not. I was- always so _angry_ and never my call. No. We don't kill. We don't kill. _They_. I used to. Sorry. 'M sorry! Didn' know 'ow tah stop! Excuses. Worthless! _Filthy disappointment_. Once 'n fer ever. Fuck I want to… to… to…? Huh?"

There was a hand on my shoulder.

I stared at it. Nobody had been able to calm me down with a touch in ages. Usually, people so much as standing too close when I was having an episode only made it worse. They either had to medicate me or wait it out. Nobody could do that anymore, not since Jason. Not so quickly. Not without even talking. And this guy just reached out his hand and calmed me down. Hell, I'd never even met him before!

"I… sorry. I'm sorry. I'm okay now." I was mostly saying that to convince myself but he didn't seem to mind. "What were you here for again?"

"I came looking for you, Jayblue."

I froze.

* * *

-Jason/Red Hood POV-

Jayblue froze for about half a second before yelling and stumbling back. "The voices are back! I heard him again!" he panicked. "Damn, I thought I was past that one," he muttered to himself crossly, like flipping a switch. "I gotta remember to tell Dr. Bald about this."

Jalal had been hearing voices? Hell, he'd been hearing _my_ voice? Had my death messed him up _that_ badly? "You're not hearing voices in your head, Jayblue," I assured him, ignoring the way my heart cringed watching him flinch and cover his ears at the sound of my voice. "This is just what I sound like."

"You- are you a hallucination?" Jalal accused nervously, pointing a finger at me almost angrily, "'Cause if you are, you _suck_. And it wouldn't be the first time either. I'm not falling for it. It hurts. Not again."

I shook my head affectionately and reassured him, "I'm not a hallucination, Jayblue."

"You a zombie or a vampire or something?" he asked suspiciously, hope starting to edge into his voice. "Or a clone or an android or a long lost evil twin or a dream (I've had those before too)?"

"I'm not any of that," I promised, "I got tossed into a Lazarus pit. I'm real. I still have a bit of pit insanity and probably some PTSD thrown in there too, but I'm real."

"...Your eyes," he demanded, "Lemme see your eyes."

I hesitated. Then I pulled out a gun and shot the two security cameras with a good enough angle to see my face before re-holstering the weapon and unlocking the helmet, letting it drop to the floor and nervously removed the domino mask I wore underneath. I knew that all my scars were pretty much healed, having faded into almost nothing and I'd gained a white streak in my hair but otherwise looked the same, though a year older. Jalal cupped my face with both hands. I realized I was taller than him now by a few inches. A year can make a world of difference. He looked up at me intently.

"Still can't decide if they're blue or green," he muttered to himself. "Don't move," he ordered before grabbing me by the jacket and sticking his ear to my chest. Damn if I didn't want to hold him back. It had been so long. So long. "I said don't move." _Right. Bossy little Jayblue_. So we stood like that for a while. "I can hear your heartbeat," Jalal whispered in absolute awe. His arms tightened around me as if terrified my heart would stop beating again. I didn't blame him. Sometimes the idea of the Pit's effects just up and wearing off scared me too. "I can hear your heartbeat!" Jalal leaned back, looking as happy as I'd ever seen him and socked me hard across the jaw.

I reeled backward before regaining my balance. "Okay, I'll admit I deserved that o-" Jalal grabbed my jacket again, pulled me forward and was kissing me hard on the mouth. He pulled back. "Not sure what I did to deserve _that one_." Jalal kissed me again. I could taste tears in it but I didn't say anything, partially because I was too busy kissing him and partially because I wasn't sure if they were his or mine. Because damn if it didn't feel good to have my Jayblue back.

I pulled him closer. _Damn_. Jayblue may have been in Arkham this entire time, but he most definitely had still been working out. And it was paying off. Jalal wasn't ripped or anything (probably never would be) but there wasn't an ounce of fat on him. It was all muscle. Thin, corded, lithe, rippling muscle. _And when did my hand get under his shirt?_ I definitely didn't mind. Besides, his hands were halfway under my waistband and damn if that didn't just feel so _right_.

I moved to kiss my way down Jayblue(my Jayblue!)'s neck happily. Jalal breathed my name in surprise and I felt my heart swell. "I should come back from the dead more often," I murmured into my Jayblue's ear, "if _this_ is the reaction I get."

"If you ever die on me again I'm going to follow after you," Jayblue warned, arms stiffening slightly. I had scared him.

"I don't think I can live with that," I admitted. The thought of _my_ Jayblue dead, and because of me, did not sit well with me. "I don't want you hurt."

"Then you're just gonna try not to die, won't you?" he teased, trying and succeeding to sound lighthearted, but we both knew he was serious. "If I ever lose you again… I _can't_. I can't do that again. Never again. Please just never again."

And then I was just holding him to my chest as tightly as I could, pretending I didn't feel his tears through my shirt and that there were none dripping into his hair as my Jayblue listened to my heartbeat. And we may have lost the moment but this was just as precious really so I didn't mind. Not at all. Besides, there would be time for that later.

"Stop! Remove your weapons and step away from the inmate!" someone shouted behind me. Jayblue looked over my shoulder and raised his eyebrows.

"Oh yeah… I forgot about that," I muttered irritably.

"You _forgot_ that you broke into Arkham?" Jayblue asked sarcastically, "You're an idiot."

"Yeah," I shrugged. "So? It's more fun this way." I still hadn't made the slightest movement to comply with the orderlies request to step away from my Jayblue. I wasn't letting him out of arm's reach for a good long time, if ever.

"I said freeze! Put your hands in the air!"

Jayblue grinned and burrowed into my chest a little more. "You should put your mask back on. Just to be sure."

"Yeah," I murmured into his hair. "You got it Jayblue."

* * *

-Bruce Wayne/Batman POV-

Having the alarm of Arkham going off was never a good sign, for all that it happened relatively often. I was already on my way there before I'd even discovered who it was breaking out/in this time. As I drove, I had Alfred narrate what was happening on the security cameras and keep me informed (I know better than to watch a video and drive at the same time). I was both surprised and worried when Alfred reported that the intruder (another Red Hood wannabe, great, just what the world needed) broke into _Jalal's_ cell of all places.

The boy was just starting to get back on his feet a year after Jason's death and I didn't want him regressing or worse, being captured by henchmen of his father as the Red Hood persona might suggest he was. Jalal was _not_ going to have anything bad happen to him again. He'd been through enough.

"Well that's highly unexpected," Alfred commented. "Mister Jalal punched the intruder in the face and then started kissing him."

"..." Well, that didn't make much sense. "And what are they doing now?" I asked, trying to get a grip on that last sentence.

"They appear to still be kissing, sir," Alfred reported neutrally. "I shall inform you should they decide to stop."

I actually let myself think about that. Jalal was willingly (and enthusiastically) touching another person. Jalal hated strangers and it took him a while to adjust to them. The only exception there had ever been to that rule as Jason, and Jason was dead. There wasn't going to be another exception anytime soon. That meant they knew each other. But who that Jalal knew would break into Arkham rather than set an appointment? Tom Cat was still going straight, for now, Selena knew better and the intruder was a man anyway, and Jalal had cut ties with everyone else I could think of. … Maybe it was mind control. Or pheromones. Something.

By the time I was halfway through Arkham and Jalal's cell, Alfred reported that the guards were trying to break the two apart with threats and were simply being ignored. That was another odd thing. These days Jalal usually obeyed orders from anyone he considered sane in an attempt to be sane himself.

"What's the situation?" I asked the first orderly I saw.

"Batman?!" He nearly jumped right out of his skin but regained his composure quickly though. People at Arkham are generally accustomed to both surprises and me popping up unexpectedly. Also, the people working here have the highest immunity to creepy laughter that I'd found outside of the Justice League. Either that or they don't last here long. "They're ignoring us, sir. But they don't seem to be making any threatening actions. I don't think this is a break-in or out exactly… more like a violent, unarranged visit. No one was killed, but a few were rushed to the hospital with bullets in their legs."

"Very well, have your men fall back. I don't want any unnecessary casualties when I can handle this alone," I ordered. While the orderlies at Arkham were nothing to sneeze at, they were far from unbeatable. And they'd be dead meat if the intruder managed to get Jalal on a rampage, as unlikely as that possibility was. It was more probable that the intruder would try to fight his way out again, which I also didn't want to see. The fact that he could even enter the building meant he had training and if he turned that training to actual violence with the intent to harm he had the potential to be highly dangerous. He'd made it all the way here without killing anyone or using mass explosives. That meant training and lots of it. I didn't want to see what this guy could do if he set himself to hurting others.

"Bossy B!" Jalal's voice rang excitedly down the hallway. _Did he sound… __happy__?_ "How are you? Did you come to visit too?!"

"Actually Jalal, I mostly came to see your guest. Who is he?" I asked.

Jalal glanced between the new guy and me. "You should tell him," he encouraged. "Secrets don't make friends."

"I was going to anyway. Can you kill the other two cameras then?" The other guy asked. His voice sounded alarmingly familiar… and yet I couldn't place it anywhere. It made sense for Jalal and me to have a mutual acquaintance, but I still couldn't place who it was.

Jalal nodded. I didn't flinch when he pulled the gun from the stranger's hip holster and shot the cameras. _Figures he'd still have perfect aim even after all he'd been through_. "No problem there, Jaybird. I got your back."

My brain froze up. "Jaybird?" the word was out of my mouth before I'd even processed hearing it. "Did you just call him-"

"I know I'm crazy and everything," Jalal cut me off, "but my instincts have never been wrong. I'm not done hugging him yet though, so you can't have him till I'm done. We should start a line!"

My heart hoped so hard it hurt but… "Jalal, you know as well as I do that that's impossible. You saw his body, same as I did. It can't be him. You're having another delusion."

Then Jason turned around. And it was Jason. Even with the eyemask it was _him_. And I just _knew_. "Hey dad," he said, almost sheepishly.

I don't remember crossing the distance but next thing I knew Jason was sandwiched into a group hug and Jalal was giggling delightedly. And I was _happy_ about it. Because my son was home.

* * *

-Dick Grayson/Nightwing POV-

I was more than a little concerned when Alfred called me up and, sounding significantly close to either tears or shock, ordered me to get to Jalal's cell in Arkham Asylum immediately. I mean, nothing good ever happens at Arkham Asylum. Even Jalal's birthday party last year had ended badly… There was no way this could be good news.

I have never been so happy to be proven wrong in my life.

"What's the situation?" I asked the first orderly I saw.

"Nightwing? Sir, uh… well, first there was an intruder. He broke into Jalal's cell. Then Batman showed up and now… Uhm. All three of them are having a group hug. Everybody's _way_ too scared to get close. Some of the guys are saying that Batman must be under mind control or something but I don't _think_ that's it."

A mind controlled Batman would be really, really bad. Of course, it had happened once or twice before and I'd nearly died every time. The last time it happened, several years ago now, Jalal had shot him in the leg, punched out Poison Ivy and had a serious mental breakdown and nearly went on a killing spree. This had been before we had Jason to calm him down. And before we lost Jason.

The second I came around the corner I was met by a surprise. "Dickiebird!" Jalal shouted happily. _Wait, Jalal sounds happy? That mind control theory sounds less paranoid by the second…_ "You totally gotta join the group hug! We got Bossy B to do it!"

"And why, pray tell, are you having a group hug with somebody who broke into Arkham?" I asked, verging on sarcastic.

"Because," Batman said, voice swelling with suppressed emotions I didn't dare try to identify, "Robin - _Jaybird_ \- came back."

"And I'm just supposed to believe you?" I asked, "Just like that?"

Jalal shook his head eagerly. "He's not a hallucination, a zombie, a vampire, a clone, an android, a long lost twin or a dream! I checked! And I looked! He's the same! Well, not the _same_ the same because he's changed but he's still _him!_" Jalal beamed. "The lights are right!"

I hesitated. "Parallel dimension?" I guessed.

"Not that I noticed," the maybe-Jason shrugged, still clutching Jalal to his chest. "And even if I was I have no intention of leaving. We let Knight stay."

Jalal always did have the best instincts. And _apparently_, he'd thought of _everything_. If he said it was true then… I felt the hope rearing its ugly head in my chest but didn't let it show in my face or in my voice. "Oh yeah, then how could he be here? How could he have possibly been brought back? And if he is here, someone's probably got some sort of evil plan behind it." I looked the intruder in the eye. "If you are anything less than real it will destroy him. It would destroy us all."

"It's a good thing I'm real then."

I was willing to listen then. That was Jason's voice. I _knew_ Jason's voice. Batman knew what an imposter looked like. Jalal knew the difference between a clone and an original. I trusted their instincts and I trusted mine. Jason was real. He was real and he was breathing again and he was _alive_.

And I joined the BatHug.

* * *

-Jalal POV-

We were curled together on the bed in Jason's old room. Apparently, I would never get enough of listening to Jason's heartbeat and Jaybird would never get enough of holding me tight and running his fingers through my hair. Neither of us minded the other's insistence on nearness. I would be quite happy to stay there forever.

From an outsider's point of view, our relationship probably wouldn't be considered 'healthy'. I mean, there was a desperate need and reliance there - on both sides. I was completely dependant on Jason to keep from switching batshit, suicidal, catatonic and murderous faster than most people could blink. And now, more than before, I was the one who kept Jaybird from acting out and leaving the BatFamily, so I suppose it was more like codependency than anything. It was ironic that I acted as anything even remotely resembling a conscience for him, but I think that's what I might end up being now that he's... back.

Pit Madness was nothing to sneer at. That being said, Jaybird's case wasn't entirely that bad. He was still in there and completely himself. He just had fewer inhibitions. Like the inhibitions that told him 'no, I shouldn't shoot that asshole just because he deserves it' or 'no, I shouldn't steal Jalal's food and/or kisses just because I can'. We're working on it. When I got a glimpse of Talia that one time, that bitch was _crazy_ from all the pit madness she had in her. Worse than Harley Quinn - and trust me, _that's_ saying something. (Surprisingly, Ra's al Ghul is fully sane. Who knew right?) Being me though, I can see when something's coming and steer him in the right direction. We really can't function without each other. Most professional relationship psychologists would probably try and pry us apart. I think if they did, both of us would shoot any poor slob they tricked into trying.

Which was exactly the problem.

The thing is, I didn't care if my relationship with Jason is unhealthy. I need him and he needs me. There's probably love in there too even though I'm not saying that out loud anytime soon. Last time I deliberately tried to earn somebody's love was with my parents (Different kind of love, but same general idea.) and that didn't turn out so well. So with Jaybird I just decided that what would come would come and I'd take things as they were, so long as I got to stay near him.

Jaybird's arms tightened around me for a second.

"Whatcha thinkin'?" I asked, knowing more or less what would've set him off.

"I haven't apologized yet, have I?" he asked.

I paused. "Well, no," I agreed, "But it wasn't really your fault. It's not like you were trying to get yourself killed or anything." He didn't answer. Something cold dropped into my gut. I sat up to look at him. "You _weren't_ right?"

Jaybird winced. "It was my fault. I disobeyed direct orders, went in alone and got myself killed. I should've- I hate to say 'I should've listened to Batman' but it's true. And I didn't."

"What… actually happened?" I asked, timidly. I really didn't want to trigger a flashback or anything (Not that I was sure if he got those, but I do sometimes and they're horrible.) "I mean… I was in no state to ask what you were doing there right after… and I never got up the guts to ask later."

Jason winced. "I was… stupid. And I was looking for my mom."

"But I thought-"

"So did I," he agreed. I decided not to interrupt again. "Apparently though she was just my step-mom. Which kinda made perfect sense in so many ways. So I went looking for my mother- my real mother. I shouldn't have. She was working for the Joker." I felt his arms tighten again but didn't mind. If I bruised, I'd heal. So long as I could help keep Jaybird grounded I didn't mind. "She tried to negotiate handing me over to get herself a clean slate. He didn't keep the deal." I failed to hold in me snort of derision. Negotiating with the Joker. Yeah, like that'll work. "Obviously it didn't end well. He got a couple hits in with a crowbar and left right before the time bomb went off. We both died in the blast."

I buried my face in Jason's shoulder. "I'm sorry about your mom," I told him. I felt him shrug under me. "Parents suck."

Jaybird laughed. "Yeah no kidding," he agreed. For all that the laughter wasn't quite heartfelt, it was still miraculous to hear. Because he was _here_ and he was _alive_ and he was _with me_. "But I _am_ sorry. I'll apologize to Bruce and Dick and Alfred and Timmy and the rest later but… I _am_ sorry for what I put you through. I wish I'd come back sooner. I didn't know- I didn't realize that you needed me. I didn't realize and I took a stupid risk without considering and I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me. Because you always did and I never saw that."

I snorted at that. "Of course I need you. You're what keeps me even partly sane. You have no idea how grateful I am for that." I readjusted my head so I could listen to his heartbeat again. _So grateful_. I nuzzled in closer (if that were possible), absolutely relishing the way I could hear his heartbeat. It was so strong. Like it could never so much as a hiccup, much less stop entirely.

"What-" Jaybird cut himself off before trying again. "How… badly… did you react exactly."

I know I must've tensed or something because his fingers resumed carding through my hair soothingly until I answered. "Why does it matter? You're back now. I'm better now. You even apologized. It's done."

"Yeah but-" Jason sighed. "That doesn't mean I don't have some stuff to make up for. I do. I can't fix anything, not really, but I can make it up to you. And I want to know how badly I screwed up."

I whacked I'm on the arm, not daring to move my ear away from his chest in case it disappeared. "You don't need to punish yourself like that," I dismissed. _Don't make me_. "You're back. That's all that matters."

Jason sat up some, using one hand to make me look him in the eyes (Not that I would protest that either.) as he frowned. "I am back. But those years aren't just going to disappear. I want to be here for you, now and as long as you need me for, preferably forever. I can't help you if you don't tell me what was going on. We both know you're going to have flashbacks. I want to know how to help you."

_Well, when you phrase it that way_. "Yeah, okay," I agreed, feeling defeated as I sat up all the way and took a deep breath. "The upside is I haven't had a blood-thirsty episode since. I haven't tried to cut myself or anyone else. That's… where the good news ends." I couldn't look Jason in the eyes but he didn't force me, just propped himself up against the headboard and opened his arms to me. I leaned back against him and he wrapped one arm around my shoulder and his other around my waist, pulling me closer. I laced my fingers with his for comfort. _Calm down. Jaybird is safe and I can be secure in that knowledge_. "Some days were worse than others. I'm honestly not sure if I would ever have gotten back to 'functional' without you coming back, much less field-worthy. It seemed impossible. Some days… I just blanked out. They told me that I'd sit for hours, not moving, not even eating. Other days, the days I thought it was my fault or that I was too slow." I heard my voice crack but kept talking knowing that if I started crying I'd never get through this and Jaybird deserved to know. "Those days I'd hit myself against things, but never anything sharp. I just needed a distraction I guess. Worst was-" I needed to take several breaths before I felt like I could keep talking without it coming out as a sob. _He's right here. He's right here_. I pulled Jaybird's arms closer. "There were days when I'd hear your voice, or see you, or have dreams. Sometimes you would just sit with me and I wouldn't remember that you were… not supposed to be there. Sometimes you'd try and convince me that you were real and you _lied_. Sometimes you'd attack me and blame me."

Jaybird's arms tightened around me stiffly. "I'd never-"

"I know that. Shh, I'm telling a story here." _I don't want to talk about it_. "Voices. Hallucinations. Fainting spells and panic attacks which faded over time. Occasional catatonic stupors. Fugue state every now and then. At first, everyone was worried about suicide attempts but it never progressed that far. Once or twice I tried to break my promise and break out to assassinate the Joker but I never got very far before they called in one of the BatFamily. I'd just stop after that. No killing without the express permission of a sane person. I was making progress towards the end though. The hallucinations and voices had gone away. I think that's it but I'm not really the best person to ask. You should check with the doctors."

Jaybird's arms were wrapped around me like a vice by now. He buried his face into my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jayblue. I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of that to happen. I never wanted to leave you." There were tears in his voice and soaking through my shirt to my shoulder.

"You're back now," I reminded him, as well as myself. "You're back now."

And that was all I really cared about.

"We're going to be okay."


	14. Oracle

JJ knew he was laughing but didn't care; Laughing Jack was in control and nothing hurt right now because of that. He didn't have to think about Jaybird being gone. Didn't think about him going cold. About his own cursed blood. About killing his not-father. Laughing was better than crying. Better laugh until his face hurt than allow his heart to hurt any longer. He'd held out a long time but being Laughing Jack was just so much _easier_, especially with a gun in his hand. They could only hurt his body now and really, who did that hurt at all?

The gun fired again. Something shattered.

There was a noise. Just a noise. A rustle really. It was quiet, nearly silent but not perfectly so. Not fully trained. With a clear head he may have bothered recognizing it. With a clear head he would have turned and looked before it happened. With a clear head he wouldn't have laughed as he whipped his arm up and pulled the trigger again without even looking. Laughing Jack did not have a clear head.

The gun fired again.

It was only a gentle squeeze and a loud bang. And a thud paired with a pained cry as a body hit the ground. He looked then. He wanted to see. And then he didn't.

Jalal screamed and scrambled back. Brabat was lying in a pool of her own blood and not moving. He was literally holding a smoking gun. Another member of his family was dead, this time by his own hand.

"My blood is cursed," Jalal murmured, lifting the gun again.

The metal still felt cool despite having been fired repeatedly, maybe because death was cold. Stone graves were cold. His body felt cold. Jaybird's body had been cold. It was funny how touching a cool piece of metal against hot skin made the attention focus on it so intensely, so funny yet he wasn't laughing. His temple burnt like ice but he knew the sensation wouldn't last long so he didn't mind it. Jalal knew if he pulled the gun away he'd feel the ghost of it against his own temple. He wouldn't though. He was resolved. This was better.

"This ends with me. No more dying."

The gun fired again. Nightwing's Batarang made it in time. Jalal fired but missed his target. The hospital was called. Batgirl lived too. She never took another step under her own power either.

* * *

"Oracle." Jalal named awkwardly. He didn't have the right to give her one of his names. He had no right to look her in the eyes. Why had she come? He was a monster. He'd ruined her. He couldn't fix her. He was a monster. Jaybird would hate him for hurting his sister like that. Jalal hated himself for hurting her.

"Look at me," she ordered.

Jalal's head turned towards her, but his eyes remained firmly turned towards the ground.

"Look at me properly," Barbra Gordon ordered, voice clear.

Jalal obeyed.

"Are you okay?"

Jalal physically reared back at that question. Why would she ask him that? Shouldn't he be asking her? Shouldn't she hate him? Shouldn't she already know the answer?

Her face softened even further. "Jalal… it wasn't your fault. You didn't even know I was there. I should have known better than to treat Laughing Jack like I would treat you. I did not exercise the proper level of caution and paid the price for that. I don't blame you."

Jalal flinched. "I shot you at point blank range. I hit your _spine_. I could have hit something even more important. I didn't even _look_. I _didn't_. Fucking. _Care_."

Barbra Gordon was not impressed. "Do you blame yourself for Robin's death too?"

Jalal didn't answer immediately. "My blood is cursed. I am a monster. My blood killed him. It is my fault."

Somehow, it sounded like a dull recitation, a constant heartache that he didn't even have the strength of will to cry over anymore. Babs knew that wasn't true though because he still cried sometimes. Jalal still had fits of hysterics and catatonia over Jason's death. This must be one of his slow days.

"We all kill the thing we love most, sister. And loving makes you die a little inside. It's good your dad already knew. He needed to be able to understand. Just in case."

Babs's breath got caught in her chest for a hitch. Telling her father about being Batgirl, and now about being Oracle, had been one of the most terrifying ideas in her life because he could have taken that away from her. She had known that if he asked, that she would have put away the cowl. Barbra Gordon also knew that she would never, ever, _want_ to give it up. Not even to have her legs back. If giving up her legs meant that all the lives she had saved would stay safe, then it was worth the price. It had to be. She couldn't bear to regret coming to this point.

"Jalal. It wasn't your fault."

"Lady Oracle... I don't believe you."


	15. Green Lantern of the Batfamily

"You are going to be his dad, not his partner. You got me?" JJ ordered, glaring at the much taller, much more intimidating Batman. He was all of what? Five? Six years old? And he was threatening the Batman. There was no sense of self-preservation.

"What makes you think that's what he needs?" Bruce deflected automatically. "He just lost one father and-"

JJ was not taking that shit. "Because Dickiebird's not that much older than me and I want a dad, not a partner in crime. Dick is good. Good people get good things. Dick gets a dad. You step up."

Bruce blinks, hearing something in JJ's tone that shouldn't be possible in someone so young. "Are you threatening me?" he asks, baffled and vaguely impressed.

"I'm six. That doesn't stop me from being dangerous. Be nice to Dick. I shouldn't need to threaten a superhero into being nice. Dumbass."

Bruce is both affronted, chagrined and abstractly guilty. He knows he's only ever had the best intentions for Dick, for his ward. But that's just it. Dick was a ward and not his child. And he'd considered him as such. Apparently, JJ wouldn't let him get away with that.

* * *

"Look, Bruce," Hal said tiredly. He never thought he'd see the day where he was giving parenting advice to the Batman of all people, but that day had come. Somehow, Hal was sure it was JJ- Jalal, he wanted to be called Jalal now. But it was still his fault. Somehow. "You can't keep comparing Jason to Dick. You're going to give the kid some kind of crazy complex. Dick's great, but he's his own person. Jason isn't Dick and that's okay, that's good even. They're different people."

"I'm not saying they've got to be the same. I'm saying that Jason isn't applying himself the same way Dick did and-"

"No, Bruce, you're not getting it. Stop thinking like Batman and think like a dad. I've got two kids. I hold them to different standards. You've got two kids now too, but you've been helping out already with Roy, Leon, heck, even Wally, and Jalal. Would you hold Jalal to the same standard as you do Dick?"

"No, but-" And the Batman cut himself off.

Hal sat up straight, military bearing eeking into his expression. He felt as if a hunk of ice had slipped into his heart and it _hurt_. "But what Bruce?" Hal asked dangerously and Batman made the mistake of hesitating to collect his words, allowing Hal to build up his protective and fatherly rage into something truly powerful. "No, go on, say it. What were you going to say? After all, I know my son. Jalal's great but he's no Boy Wonder, is that it?"

"No, it's just that he's not-"

"He's not what, Bruce? He's not what?! Sane?! You think he'll never be as good as your boy because he's traumatized? Because he's been through hell and torture and because he made mistakes that he couldn't even control?! You think my son is anything less than a fucking goddamn hero for overcoming insurmountable odds forced on him by his parents, by society, by you, by every asshole with expectations that said he'd have no choice to be a monster?! Everyone told him what he was and they were wrong! My kid is a goddamn hero, Bruce! He's a hero and people still see him as less than what he is! Is that what you want?! Is that what you want for Jason?! You want him to see himself as less than Dick because of where he came from?! Because his mother was a druggie instead of being murdered in front of him?! You think you have the right to look down on people and treat them like they're not good enough because you've set a bar so high it's impossible to meet?! Is that it?!"

Hal's chest was heaving from all the yelling he'd been doing and all the anger he was feeling. Batman had questioned his fucking kid. And that was fucking unacceptable. Nobody touched Hal's boys. Nobody, not either of them. Wally and Jalal, while neither of them was his by blood, were _his_ and Hal had learned to be nothing if not downright _vicious_ when someone had the gall to question their worth. Jalal especially had enough confidence issues already. And to have Batman, to have Bruce, a man Jalal trusted and looked up to… to have him question Jalal's worthiness could destroy Hal's precious and more fragile son irrevocably.

Bruce could acknowledge that he had fucked up. He knew he had a tendency to dismiss other people's opinions because, with no false modesty, he was a genius and he was amongst the most intelligent people on the planet. It was not often that he made mistakes. This, unfortunately, meant that when he did mess up, it was particularly damaging to the people he cared about, especially to their relationships to him. And this most recent fuck-up had threatened his bonds with his new son, his nephew and a co-worker who was also a dear friend. And it was true. Bruce had been holding Jason to the same standard as Dick and that was unfair. Bruce had thought that because Jason wasn't excelling at the same rate Dick had that he wasn't applying himself. But Jason didn't have an acrobat's muscles. In fact, he was largely malnourished and still flinched sometimes when something loud or unexpected happened to near to him. Even then, he and Robin- Nightwing- Dick was probably suited for a different fighting style, to begin with. Jason would simply never be as flexible as Dick any more than Bruce had ever managed to train Dick to understand the rules of Gotham the way Jason instinctively seemed to have them carved into his soul. Yes, it was frustrating when Jason acted out or disobeyed him in ways Dick never had, but that didn't mean it was okay to compare the two. Bruce hadn't even realized that he'd been doing it. And he had certainly never meant to imply any of that about Jalal. The kid's confidence was fragile enough already. Another emotional blow from someone he trusted could push him too far. It was one of Bruce's silent but greatest fears that someday Jalal would have a breakdown that his medication and self-restraint couldn't control and Bruce would be the one forced to contain him. He quietly suspected that such a thing would destroy them both.

"I was going to say that Jalal isn't Robin. Nor is he mine," Bruce explained slowly. "I don't have the right to push him the way I do Dick. And yes, I was mistrustful in the beginning when Dick brought home a boy who, at the time, I could only see as the child of my enemy. And that was wrong of me. I see that. I have seen that since Selina talked - and beat - some sense into me about it. I could never blame Jalal for what he's been through, Hal. Your son is a good kid and yes, he is a hero. I know that."

Hal jutted his chin mulishly. "And if I accept that part was a misunderstanding then what about Jason? I'm not letting you make the kid think he's a failure or force him into being someone he's not."

"I honestly hadn't realized that I was comparing the two. I knew I was being hard on Jason, perhaps harder than I'd been on Dick, but not that I was making him feel inadequate. I never meant for that. I'll stop, that's a given at this point, but I'm not sure if I should talk to him directly or-"

"Oh, you two need to have a talk. And not just about comparing him to Dick. The kid needs to know that you're his Dad, not his 'Bruce'. And in the field - which had better not happen until he's trained some more no matter how careful you are - that he's your partner and not your sidekick. It was the League's inability to accept that which lead to the formation of the Young Justice Team and it was your sheer lack of communication and over-protectiveness which drove Robin to become Nightwing. I should know," Hal smiled ruefully, "he was over at my house complaining to Wally about it endlessly. And anyone else who would listen."

"I didn't realize you were that close."

"He's my nephew."

"I see."

When it was finally time for Hal to go, Bruce suddenly spoke up. On anyone else, it would have sounded as though he were blurting it out but the goddamnbatman was above such things. "You know," he became suddenly, "when I first took Dick in, and he'd met JJ-"

"Jalal," Hal corrected automatically.

"Right, Jalal, but he was JJ then. When Jalal first met Dick one of the first things he did was start a bonfire on a random roof to get me to come over and talk to him and then he threatened me, insisting that I had to treat Dick as a son and not a soldier. He was very stubborn about it and I didn't understand at the time why he of all people cared so much about some kid he'd only just met. But I think I get it better now."

Hal smiled softly. It was the sort of smile a parent wore when they were proud of their child. When that child had surpassed an expectation. "Jalal cares rather a lot about many things, but especially about family. Being backed into a corner by expectations wouldn't have sat so well with him either. I can imagine why he'd be upset at the idea of someone being a soldier, especially because in his eyes you'd be 'taking advantage' of Dick's recent trauma at the time. I'm not even slightly surprised he pulled a stunt like that."

"Like I said," Bruce nodded, "I get it better now."

He'd never get it as well as Hal or even Barry or Iris did, but that was okay. Bruce wasn't Jalal's dad. He wasn't even his favorite uncle. That role, much to Bruce's chagrin, belonged to Captain Cold of all people. Not even the Batman could figure out why.

* * *

Hal positively _adored_ JJ. He was a kid trying to grow up too fast and not having much choice in the matter who was constantly being told he was nothing but a fuckup and a failure from all sides and he just kept soldiering on. JJ reminded him a little too much of himself for him _not_ to love the kid. There were differences of course. Hal had never been insane for example, and his father wasn't as abusive as JJ's was, merely absent and even then that wasn't really the man's fault because he'd died. JJ's life was harder. But he also had more people in his corner.

In Hal's eyes, JJ (he was Jalal now but Hal knew he was the same kid he had always been and that kid was wonderful under all the crap that had been piled on him through no fault of his own beyond the coincidence of birth) was just as much his son as Wally was. And Wally _was_ his son – conventional family unit be damned. And just like any parent and their child, there were a few moments of heart-stopping horror that absolutely terrified Hal and later reminded him of just how much he loved the kid. There was the time the Joker nearly killed him right after the founding of the Team. There was the time he broke into Cadmus Labs unsupervised. The time he lost control and tried to kill Batgirl. There were several close calls with the Light. There was the time when Jason died.

That had probably been the worst, really. Jalal had been so _broken_ and there was really nothing Hal could do for his son. Nothing he could do to ease the pain. And he'd actually liked Jason too. (This didn't stop him from threatening him if he ever hurt his precious son, but that was just a dad's prerogative, nothing personal.) Hal had visited at least once every week. And every week he'd gone home and cried into Barry or Iris's shoulder.

So when JJ called him screaming bloody murder, incoherently and without words, he was fully prepared to go into overprotective-dad-mode and _eliminate_ whatever was threatening his son. He _never_ wanted to see JJ so broken down and defeated again. It took him approximately two seconds to cover the distance between the Watchtower and the Cave, without using the Zeta Tubes. (Green Lantern Rings were capable of opening wormholes. They were meant to only be used in the vacuum of space but Hal Jordan didn't really consider rules enough to stop him from being there for his son when he was needed so...) It was an emergency.

* * *

It was not an emergency. When he got there, Hal laughed. He just couldn't help it. It was probably one of the most ridiculous situations Jalal had ever gotten himself into, and that's saying something.

Jay had locked himself in a bathroom, and a Green Lantern Power Ring was trying to break in after him. Jay was still screaming.

"Jay, calm down," Hal ordered.

"Veridian! It's after me!" Jay panicked. "_Why_ is it _fucking_ after me?! What did I even _do?!"_

"You earned it," Hal shrugged. "Honestly I guess I shouldn't be so surprised. I mean, you're one of the most stubborn people I've ever met. A bit young though."

"Well, how do I _un-_earn it?!" Jay demanded. "I don't know what to _do_ about it! Make it go away! I can't do this Green! I _can't do this!_ I should _not_ be trusted with this! I'm _dangerous!_ Making me _stronger_ is not a _safe_ thing to _do!_"

"No can do kiddo," Hal grinned. "The ring chose you. Now shut up and accept it. Open the door, Jay."

"No."

"Jay, you can't hide in there forever."

"I can _too!_ I can get Fwoosh or Shadows to bring me food through the walls. They won't let me starve. And there's a toilet. That's most of my basic bodily needs right there. There's a nice, plushy bath mat right in front of me. I've slept on worse. I can eat, sleep and shit. Problem solved."

Hal sighed. Of course, Jay didn't want to do this the easy way. He took a seat in front of the door, back to the wood. When he looked up, he could see the ring straining to get in through the closed door. "Kiddo, open the door," he instructed calmly. "You deserve this."

Jay didn't answer immediately. "What happens when I mess up?" he asked. "You know I will. You know I can't- I couldn't- _you're_ the Green Lantern and I… I made my own way. What if I mess it up?"

Hal smiled quietly to himself. "Kiddo, if you mess up, I'll be right there with you to help fix it. So will John and Buzz and the rest of the Green Lantern Corps. Not to mention the entire League and Young Justice."

"Half the League hates me."

"Half the League is made up of idiots with big heads and small brains," Hal reminded him. "Don't interrupt. There is nothing you could do that would possibly make me prouder than for you to follow in my footsteps. You're going to be brilliant at this, kiddo. I have so much faith in you. There's absolutely nothing you can do which would let me down."

Jay opened the door.

Hal fell backward since he'd been leaning on it and landed in a heap on the ground. The ring connected with its new owner.

* * *

Jack Jalal Joker became the youngest Green Lantern in the history of the Corps. Hal cried. So did Barry and Iris when they found out. Bruce didn't, but he was the Batman and the Batman didn't cry. He did crack a smile while in costume though, right in the Watchtower where anyone could see, which is the Bat-equivalent of bursting into riotous applause. Coincidentally, Superman developed an eye-twitch for the next few hours and Green Arrow choked on his own spit so badly he nearly fell out of his chair. Oracle made gifs out of both incidents and posted them online because she was secretly just as much of an evil troll as her brothers. No one knows it was her. The Young Justice thought it was the greatest thing ever when they found out.

Oracle made gifs out of both incidents and posted them online because she was secretly just as much of an evil troll as her brothers. No one knows it was her. The Young Justice thought it was the greatest thing ever when they found out.

* * *

"So can I go off-planet unsupervised?" Jay asked.

"No."

"What if I take-"

"No."

"But if Kilowog says I can go-"

"_No_."

"…You're being unreasonable, Veridian."

"No."

* * *

Jalal was staring at the power ring on his hand with an intense expression that, to anyone else, may have been mistaken for concentration. Hal knew better, recognizing it from his own first few days wearing the ring.

"I know what you're thinking," Hal told the son who had followed in his footsteps (against all odds). "It won't go away and it's not wrong."

"Don't be ridiculous," Jalal lied. "I'm not intimidated by a bit of jewelry. I can wear jewelry. It's no big deal."

"It's the worthiness hang-up," Hal corrected, completely ignoring his son's bluster. Jalal looked up at him, something plaintive and pleading in his eyes that he didn't say aloud and didn't have to. "The ring only chooses those who are worthy and you don't think you qualify. You don't think you're good enough. You're wrong of course because you've earned it completely. But you're hesitating."

"I know better than to hesitate. It could get someone killed," Jalal muttered, but it sounded more like he was scolding himself than reassuring Hal.

"Because you're thinking about it the wrong way," Hal explained. Jalal met his eyes. "It's not about whether you're already worthy right now. It's about whether or not you _want _to be: you've got the _will_ to _try_. If you want to help, to save people, to be worthy of being a Green Lantern, then that's all that matters. That's all you need. If you _want_ to be good enough, then you will be. You _are_. The _Will_ to do what's right is the only thing the ring cares about."

"I want to be good," Jalal confessed. "It's all I've wanted for a long time. I screw up all the time but I've always, always _wanted_ to be good."

Hal smiled softly and hugged his son. "I know, kiddo. And you are. You really, really are."

"Thanks," Jalal murmured into his chest, hesitating before adding, even more quietly, "Dad."

Hal had expected to cry when he heard that word from Jalal – if he ever heard that word. He had expected it to come as a shock. But it just felt natural. "You're welcome son."

Jalal cried. He hadn't intended to call him 'Dad' out loud, not ever. But he meant it.


	16. The Lights are Real

"You think I'm crazy, so you don't think the lights are real, but they are."

"You are mentally unsound, JJ, that's why you're here. That's why we're all here." The man in the white lab coat explained gently. It did not matter.

"Yes, fine, I know that. Because I'm dangerous and I don't always know what I'm doing and I have blackouts when Laughing Jack takes over and wake up covered in blood. I know that. But the lights are still real. I can read them. They're true. I see them more clearly than I see you. They tell me what it is I'm looking at. The lights are real."

"And what do the lights tell you about me?"

JJ hesitated. A little boy in a straightjacket, positively dwarfed by the large, worn down wingback chair he was propped up in with his legs crossed, the tops of his feet on the front of his thighs and looking perfectly at home and he only hesitated for the first time at _that_ question. "I- I don't know if I want to tell you," JJ admitted looking away.

"And why's that?"

JJ bit his lip.

"JJ, this is a safe space," he insisted. "You can trust me."

"The last person I told about their lights killed herself after the second session," JJ admitted, looking down at his lap morosely. "Her lights weren't very bright you see and I- I shouldn't have talked about it."

There was a pause. "JJ, what do my lights tell you about me?"

JJ didn't bother asking to confirm the question. There was no point. He opened his eyes and _stared_. "Only child, good parents. Nice area, sheltered childhood. Slight bullying, probably for bookishness. Handled well, no serious damage. Parent- dad died. Unexpected. Accident. Car crash? High school-ish. Harder. No friends, too quiet. Teachers' pet they whispered. Not handled as well. It wears on you sometimes, the things they said. Whispered in hallways and scribbled on the desk. Back didn't stay as straight. Mom started drinking. Dosing? Drinking. Like a fish. Gone by senior year. Destroyed you. Awkward relation with a distant relative. Therapy. Bad therapist but the books… They helped. People can help. Heal. The strength you didn't know you had." JJ blinked, almost surprised. "Wanted to help, to share, to help. Honestly. Criminals. Not our fault. Huh." JJ stopped staring entirely. "You're a good person," he concluded.

"You didn't see that before?"

"I try not to look too close in places like this, or ever if I can help it," JJ shrugged, but it looked more defensive than casual. "There's too much dark being flung in all directions. Black stains that seeped in and took root. The green fire that twists you out of shape, bent in all the wrong ways. Gotham is a dark city. Very strong darks. Tendrils of flickering green everywhere. Drowning in blue-greys. Not very vibrant. But the special ones – they're _beautiful_."

"Which ones are beautiful?"

"Dickiebird, whose stains just wash away somehow. Bossy B who is so dark and uses it to keep other people clear. Lady Bast, for all her fuzzy edges and twirly green highlights. Sylvester is like he's been through a blender and can't settle, it's like watching a kaleidoscope and the dark is new but not settling in despite the age I know it has. Arrows and Whiskers. Mr. Friday the Thirteenth used to be darker than he is and he's actually _lightening_ which is… I've never seen it before. I like it. Racer and Fwoosh and Veridian and Persephone – they're _wonderful_. Racer and Fwoosh _fizzle_ with brights, enough to cover the old stains of youth. Veridian is the greenest thing I've ever seen. People are never as single-colored like that. I- they're _so beautiful_."

* * *

"Whatever it is he thinks he sees? It's real. Maybe not real as we think of it – it's not physical or measurable or any of that. But he can see emotions – right now and from our pasts. He can read them. He knows what they mean, can tell just by looking."

"He said someone died. I checked the records. She did."

"She couldn't handle the truth."

"She couldn't handle _him_. He's dangerous. Don't forget that."

"He's just a little boy. Don't forget that."

"Right now. You still haven't met Laughing Jack. Let's see if you stick around long after that. Only the Bats ever do."

"I thought he _was_ Laughing Jack."

"No. You met Jack Jalal Joker Junior, the abused little boy in a bad situation. You haven't met Jack Jalal Joker, the maniac monster son of the Joker. He may be both, but he's also very much so one or the other. He tries to keep them separate as much as he can and largely succeeds."

"Split personality?"

"Or identity. It's hard to tell, we're not sure yet."

* * *

"All the lights are gray."

"Huh?"

"The lights are gray the second you're gone. I can see it go out of you. Not like 'whoosh into the night Batman vanishes but just… stop. Like a light switch only… it lasts longer. It just up and stops being colors. The lights are gray means you're dead. Nothing's flowing anymore."

"Do you like seeing the lights stop?"

"_No_. No, the gray lights are scary. Because they _stay_."

"What does that mean?"

"The gray lights stay after the colors are gone. They… fade. Slowly, sometimes faster. Depends on how strong they were. Sometimes they stick to places. Crime Alley always has gray lights stuck to it. I… I visited a graveyard once. It was scary. The lights unravel over the headstones like… like broken spider webs… and some fade and some last and it's a patchwork and every one of them is a dead soul. And I can _see_ it. It's scary. I… mostly, the lights are… I can read them and they tell me things and they're pretty. But… I wish I couldn't see the gray ones. The gray lights… they make seeing them not worth it. Like ghosts. Like death's fingertips. Like shadows and chalk outlines. Death."

"When did you first start seeing the lights?"

"They were always there."

* * *

"So... Bruce said you were talking to your psychologist for once." Hal started slowly, hoping JJ would take the prompt.

The boy just shrugged. "I guess."

"What's all this I hear about lights?"

JJ looked up at him. For a second his eyes glazed over and skirted around his outline, seeing something that wasn't there. "They're real," he announced defiantly.

"I believe you," Hal promised. Clearly, someone had told him they weren't. Well, that person was wrong and JJ didn't need anyone else telling him 'no' when Hal was trying so hard to build up the boy's faith in himself. "Why didn't you mention them before?"

"I'm already crazy. I didn't want to be… crazier."

"That's fair but I just want to help you figure out what they are."

The suspicion in JJ's gaze broke Hal's heart over again, but he held it in. JJ blinked in surprise, reaching out and touching the air over Hal's throat, clearly focused on something no one else could touch "I hate that one," JJ told him. "The grayer blue, like it's not working right. You use it around me all the time."

"So every color means something different?" Hal guessed.

"Every color, every shade, every shape, every place, every pulse, every movement. It's harder than it looks."

"But you're good enough at it to look at it and see a person's life story."

"You mean the psychologist," JJ surmised. He nuzzled closer into Hal's side. "Boring people are easy. Predictable. There are patterns and types. I don't bother."

"What do boring people look like?"

"Not as bright, pale, pastel, dull. Closer to gray, fewer lights, not as good or as bad, less alive to begin with. Just are."

"What do I look like?"

"Green."

"What, boring people get you to ramble about how dull they are and all I get is 'green'?" Hal joked.

"You're green. Heart and hands and head and feet and throat and back. You're the greenest person I've ever seen. And bright. I could find you easy. Big. You don't fit inside or even on your skin, always reaching out."

"So I'm _just_ green, huh?"

"Everyone has everything. Just… like how there's red in pink but it looks like something else, you know? You don't see it unless you know. And everyone flares with others sometimes. You've got purples and indigos and some blues."

"And what do those colors mean?"

"Green fire is insanity." Well, that answer came faster than Hal wanted to hear it. "Erm, but, I don't mean- yours isn't fire! It's- it's steadier and… smooth. Like a heartbeat, sorta. You… green is a good color. It means… uh… I never really named it. But- I mean- uh, strength? No. Uhm, intent? That's not right either."

"Will?" The guess was out of Hal's mouth before he could hold it in. If JJ saw things the way it was starting to sound like… "Green is will?"

"Yeah!" JJ cheered, brightening. "That's right. Red is angry. Yellow is scared. Orange is wanting things. I'm… less sure about the cooler colors. They're… harder for me."

"Blue is hope. Indigo is compassion. Pink is love. Do you see black and white?"

"Black is stains. Bad things that stuck sometimes. I don't see white. It fades too fast."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't hang around babies, Green. I'm dangerous. And as soon as you start using your colors they start sticking to you. Babies start white and get their colors as they grow. Well, I say white fades. It just gets replaced and covered over really. Colors never just go away. Not really."

* * *

Jalal grinned. This was easy. This was right. This was _fan-fucking-tastic!_ He was flying. With his dad. For once in his life, he was free- completely and absolutely free in a way he had never been before. Not even gravity was weighing him down and he could do anything! He could die happy right this moment and he wouldn't mind. Jalal never wanted this moment to end.

* * *

Something was hurtling from the sky. That wasn't overly unusual for Metropolis. What was it now? Alien craft? Spy satellite out of orbit? Bomb? Oh, it was person shaped… That one's not blue or black. There's no red cape. It was green. Huh. Oh my god! Guys! That guy's going to die! He's within hearing range! He's screaming! Oh crap, he sounds so young! He's small. He's a fucking kid! Don't look!

-Wait just a goddamn second here! He's not screaming! He's laughing!

At the last possible second the figure pulled up, sending newspapers and at the corner coffee shop flying in all directions. Yep. He was definitely laughing. False alarm people. It's just a new super. Green Lantern whizzed by after the first figure, shouting something vaguely incomprehensible about practice and starting off easy. Huh. When did he have a kid?

Someone tell Vicki Vale. This shit needs more gossip.

* * *

Conner and Calvin joined them.

"Hey, we heard the commotion," Calvin said by way of greeting. "What's all this about Jalal being a suicide Green Lantern from the sky?"

"Tell him not to do anything like that again!" Hal demanded.

"Hello to you too," Conner muttered.

"Nah," Calvin shrugged. "He's fine."

Conner gave his brother a look. "This from the same guy who taught me to fly by kicking me off the edge of the Grand Canyon. That was not supportive."

Calvin shrugged, smirking proudly as he flew with his back to the ground, hands behind his head. "Bro, you're invincible," he dismissed. "It wouldn't have hurt. Permanently. Fly or die."

Conner shouldered him off course slightly. Calvin blinked at him. "Right."

"I cannot believe that you are the role-models for my son," Hal complained. "I am such an irresponsible parent."

"It's okay. I love you! I love flying! I love this ring! I love today! This is awesome! WA-HOOOO!" And he executed a barrel-roll. Hal thought his heart might give out.

"Try loop-de-loops," Calvin suggested.

Jalal grinned and took off.

"No!" Hal called after him. "Slow down! Be careful! Buildings don't move out of your way like people do! Oh god, I sound old. Am I old? I think I feel old. I'm becoming old right now. Oh god."

Conner gave him a look. "I think I'll just leave you to your midlife crisis and enjoy flying with my brothers now."


	17. Fixing Match

JJ bit his lip. "I'm not very good with moral grey areas," he began, "so I'm not sure… if I should even offer. Or to whom I should make my offer. I don't know… what the right thing would be here. Should I ask you?"

Conner swallowed around the lump in his throat, still staring at his frozen brother. The brother he had helped recapture – had forced back into a _containment pod_. "It can't hurt to ask, JJ," he said, keeping his voice as even as possible. He was surprised to realize he sounded completely normal.

JJ ignored the voice in his head that whispered 'yes it can' and offered anyway. "I know a way to fix him."

Conner's head snapped to attention, focus redirected instantly to what JJ was saying. "You can help him?"

The green haired boy winced. "I- I can… I can _change_ him. And it hurts. And I can't exactly ask for his permission and I don't want to just up and _do_ something like that and… I'm not sure if this is such a good idea."

"Why would this be a bad thing?" Conner asked. "You can fix him, right?"

"Technically there's nothing wrong with him. He's just… Match is just exactly as he was _designed_ to be. He's complete. It's just that his – and your – creators are idiots and didn't know what they were designing. They were literally messing about with things they didn't understand. Nobody understands how to clone Kryptonian DNA. I can't _fix_ him because he's not broken or wrong or damaged. I can… make him into something else. Someone else. He wouldn't be purely Kryptonian anymore. He'd be like you. It's… it would hurt him a lot to do and… I don't know if he'd thank me."

"But he'd be sane. I'd have my brother?" Conner asked.

JJ nodded, staring at his shoes. "I- yeah. But Jumper… not everyone who's insane _wants_ to be sane." His parents certainly didn't. "He might not thank me for it. I might- I could make it worse. What if he still lashes out? What if I just give him intelligence and cognizance and he _hates_ us for it? What if I turn him into a _super villain?_ What if he doesn't forgive me for hurting him? What if-"

"JJ, calm down before you work yourself up again," Connor scolded. "You're pulling your hair again."

JJ released his hands quickly and stuffed them in his pockets. "Sorry."

* * *

"Is that Kryptonite?" Conner asked from across the room, looking vaguely queasy. "I think that's Kryptonite."

"Yes, it is. Don't touch it," JJ ordered. "And don't distract me. I'm in mad-scientist mode."

Connor blinked. "So I should just…"

"If you're not going to help me re-map this DNA strand and re-zip the double helix under new proteins or synthesize a new level of anesthesia then go be useless somewhere not in my lab," JJ ordered. "I'm busy."

"Right."

* * *

Match could feel his body shaking. The pain was over, but his body was still hyper sensitive and residual twinges of pain were still holding up and down his spine. His flesh felt like it had been burnt off. His lungs were _aching_.

"Do you want some water?" a soft, childish voice asked.

Match clapped his hands to his ears, grimacing. The motion hurt just as much as the unexpected sound. He glared.

A small green-haired boy winced at him. Match recognized him. And he was pleasantly surprised to realize that he didn't want to crush him. Or shoot him with laser vision. Or… hurt him in any way. Come to think of it, he didn't want to destroy anything. Which was weird. Like, super weird.

"Wha- What happened?" Match asked, irritated to hear his voice crack. The words felt strange in his mouth. He was more used to yelling.

"I'm sorry I did it without your permission, but I changed your DNA," the boy whispered as quietly as he could. "Jumper asked me to and I figured he counted as next of kin so…"

Match could hear his heartbeat and it was deafening. He could hear another, deeper heartbeat just outside the door that sounded almost like his own did. He could hear the buzzing of the electric lights overhead and the whirring of computers. He could hear people breathing.

"Calm down. Concentrate on one thing at a time. You can't block everything out but you can choose what to listen to. Okay? Focus on me."

* * *

"Match?" Conner asked, clearly nervous.

"JJ called you Jumper?"

"Conner, actually. Superboy in the field. JJ gives everyone nicknames though so…"

"Conner," Match nodded. "It's a good name. I-" He wasn't sure what to say. I'm glad you're alive. I'm glad I'm sane. I'm glad we're free. None of those statements sounded like enough and he wasn't very used to using words to express how he felt. Nor was he accustomed to feeling anything but blinding rage so that also left him feeling slightly out of his depth in this situation.

"Yeah," Conner agreed. "Me too."

* * *

JJ made a big show of disappointment when Match and Conner both insisted that there was no awkward hugging in their reunion because he didn't want them to find out he could tell that they were lying. He thought it was adorable that they thought they could keep secrets from him. He had video surveillance as evidence - and blackmail. It was his lab after all.

* * *

Calvin _glared_. JJ was actually just surprised that the heat vision wasn't going off with that kind of intense hatred painted on his face. Maybe it wasn't working? He could run a check up later…

"I am not my brother, Luthor," Calvin stated, enunciating himself clearly in the way that indicated that all he really wanted to do right now was to scream and bellow wordlessly while smashing what irritated him and anything in the nearby vicinity to dust and splinters. "I _remember_ what happened to us in the Labs. To _all_ of us. And so I will _never_ forgive you, you sick and twisted fuck. And _when_ you die. When you 'miscalculate' yourself to death, I want to be there so I can roast marshmallows on the burning embers of your defeat."

JJ frowned at this. It wasn't because he disapproved though. "Won't you get Luthor-flavored burnt-people-ashes in your marshmallow?" he inquired seriously. "That's gross. And possibly a form of cannibalism. S'mores though… I don't think I could turn down s'mores- not even with the burnt-people-ashes. Because of melty chocolate and the taste of victory." That last bit wasn't a real sentence but it was hard to diffuse the tension between… those two prospective bombs waiting to go off, each in their own respective and equally destructive ways.

Lex Luthor looked at them both as if they were insane. "I'll keep that in mind, son," he sneered at the elder Superclone.

Calvin snarled. "Not _your_ son. And neither is he."

"That's his choice, now though isn't it?" Lex mentioned idly. "You can't protect him forever." Calvin looked ready to _kill_. "You certainly couldn't protect the ones before him."

And Calvin was _going to_ kill. JJ sure as hell wasn't going to stop him after Lex went and said something like that.

The hand on his shoulder – gently placed, loosely held, touching but not physically restraining him in any way – somehow stopped Calvin from lunging. The ease with which he restrained himself surprised Calvin perhaps more than anyone else in the room. Conner seemed to have expected it. It was his hand.

"Calvin," his brother said, "I'm okay. Don't let him hurt you, I don't want to see it."

The tension drained out of him, flowing out of his shoulders while allowing his hands to unclench and face relax. "Right," Calvin nodded, glancing back at his brother. A brief nod. "Right."

"Let's go get some food," Conner offered.

"I really want s'mores now," JJ piped up, grabbing a Superclone's hand with each arm and pulling them behind him back into the fray of the party. "Do you think Agent A can get us s'mores or will we have to wait?"

"What are s'mores?" Calvin asked.

"Uh, toasted marshmallow, chocolate and graham crackers stacked like a sandwich," Conner reported somewhat mechanically as he drew on his Cadmus given knowledge. "Recreational food and campfire activity. I've never tried it."

"Your life is deprived, the both of you. We need to feed you more junk food," JJ resolved.

Luthor watched them go, talking amongst themselves, from the balcony where he had been left. Somehow, he got a distinct impression that he had lost. It was unfamiliar and he didn't know what to make of it. He supposed it didn't matter.

He never really found out if he was wrong.

Luthor lost his chance at being a father. He lost his potential bridge to Clark Kent. He lost JJ's interest and potential favors. He lost a competition. He lost.

But Luthor didn't know. And Luthor didn't care. So things continued as they had before, plus two protective Superclone brothers.


	18. Murderclones

JJ stared at the boy who was not Dick Grayson. He looked like Dick Grayson. He was _not_ Dick Grayson. He wasn't imitating Dick Grayson either. It is true that everyone is supposed to have an identical face-double somewhere in the world, but JJ doesn't think this is what he's looking at. Most identical face doubles aren't spontaneously found on the ceiling of the original's room, watching the smaller boy in the doorway like some sort of bizarre shadowy bird of prey. Nor should he have veins visible in his face like that. Or eyes with night shine under JJ's flashlight. The boy who wasn't Dick Grayson hissed at him under the beam of light.

JJ dismissed the urge to flip the light switch just to see how he'd react. Mostly because he already knew. The other boy would attack if surprised, a trained reflex not a premeditated response or intentional offensive. JJ watched the other boy's lights. They were almost entirely covered in stains. Pain. Fear. Loneliness. Resignation. Failure. But those were stains. The boy's core… it was curious and hopeful and… very much so like the core of the real Dick Grayson, who had different stains and had led a different life. This was not Dick Grayson. This was who Dick Grayson could have been, had he been set on a different path and lead a different life.

JJ would always, always be loyal to Dick Grayson.

* * *

Dick picked up his phone in the hallway between classes. "Hello?"

"I think I need the real Dick Grayson," JJ said seriously. "Not-Dick Grayson needs help and I think the real one can do that."

Dick blinked, mentally picking that one apart. "So… I have an imposter?"

"You have a _you_ who's not. He's on top of your bookshelf hissing at me and someone has been _hurting_ him. I can see the scars from here. Someone needs to fix him while I _fix _whoever did this."

"No killing," Dick said automatically, putting his books in his bag hurriedly.

"…" JJ seemed to be considering that order. "I won't."

"JJ, murder isn't the answer," he reminded his little brother. "Killing people is wrong. Babs, I've got to go. Tell the teachers-"

"I'll make something up. Go," she ordered. "And I'll take notes for you."

"You're the best. See you later," Dick rushed out even as he hurried away. "I mean it JJ."

"Is it still murder if it's revenge?" JJ asked.

"_Yes_," Dick insisted. "Any time you kill someone after planning it out, it's murder."

"What about assassinations?" JJ asked persistently. "How are those different? If they're all the same then why do they have different names?"

"I am so not having this conversation right now," Dick mumbled in denial as he made his way to the Zeta nearest the school. "This isn't my life."

"Just get over here. He looks like he's considering pouncing and it's scaring me. I'm scared, Dick. Bad things happen when I'm scared and I don't have time to recover from a psychotic episode. Especially when I'm not sure I'd win this time. Your Murderclone might beat Laughing Jack in a fight. He looks wicked _fast_. And twitchy."

Dick sped up.

* * *

He arrived just in time to deflect the nearly inevitable attack. "Don't touch my bro…ther?" Dick blinked. "What?" It was like staring in a mirror. If he hadn't seen the sun in months, had been covered in scars and what was with the creepy veins in his face and down his neck? What the hell?

"Dickiebird, congratulations. It's a boy." JJ deadpanned, clearly irritated. "I can't multi-process. All I got out of him is he's a Talon. That's _not_ his name. I'm not convinced he has one yet. You handle this. I'll handle the other end."

"_What?_"

* * *

JJ let out a very dramatic, put-upon sigh before he called the Cave of Badassery, tapping his foot impatiently. As soon as the line was picked up, he started screaming wordlessly at the top of his lungs, attempting to convey the seriousness of the situation quickly. On the other end, Kaldur near bouts jumped out of his skin.

"JJ, what's wrong?!" he asked urgently. "What happened?!"

"Superclones to the Batcave right the fuck now because bullshit has occurred and _murderclone_ and what's with all the fucking birds and _shitty owl zombies_ and someone seriously needs to handle Dickiebird while I go _apeshit_ on these creepy-face **bastards** because of _murderclone_ and _brotherly rage!_"

"I- what?" To a certain extent, everybody understood JJ. And to an equal extent, it was completely impossible to understand JJ. This conversation was quickly falling into the latter category. "Go back to the part where you tell me what happened?" Kaldur asked hopefully. It felt like a long shot. JJ wasn't big on explaining things when he wanted things done. Nor was he preferential to actually explaining what it was he wanted to be done. It got frustrating sometimes.

"Did you not hear Superclones to the Batcave?!" JJ demanded. "Because _holy shit _Dickiebird is _not_ prepared to handle this. He keeps asking 'what'. I think he's broken. I thought Bat-Brats were prepared for everything? 'Always be prepared.' He takes his goddamn utility belt to the fucking _bathroom_, okay? He should not be freaking out. It's making _me_ freak out. _I_ don't have fucking _time_ to fucking freak out! Okay?! Kay! Get us the Superclones. _Just_ the Superclones! We bring an army we'll just make this _worse!_ Murderclone is wicked ninja fast. One would be best but dunno which is better and they're kind inseparable so just- _Superclones_. Get that done while I call the League of Shadows and start a secret ninja assassin war, which you will never _ever _hear about. Get-it-got-it-good-gotta-_go!_" JJ hung up.

Kaldur blinked at the monitor. Once again, he experienced a moment of 'how-is-this-my-life': a phenomenon that had occurred more commonly once he'd joined this team. "I'm going to get Conner and Calvin and then… it's not going to be my problem this time." It was good, this one time, not to need to take headache medication preemptively in order to forestall an inevitable migraine.

* * *

No one heard about it. Those who did know about it didn't believe it or didn't understand the scope of it. They never actually confirmed who did it, despite there being only one real contender capable. There just wasn't any way to prove anything when there was nothing left. Literally nothing. Forget evidence, the bodies, the records, the very _buildings_ were gone in most cases. Anyone who had any sense and was in the correct circles to know decided to stay the fuck away. Those who had little sense never lasted long before they figured out they were really in the wrong circles.

Jack Jalal Joker Junior did not take threats to his family lightly. He _needed_ his family, more than most people were capable of understanding. He took from them his sanity, his happiness, his will to live, his will to be good; all of it came directly from his family. Without them, he was either nothing or he would be his father. Neither option was nice to think about. So threats were not tolerated.

The idea that someone might have _taken_ his Dickiebird – that he might have _lost_ him – terrified and enraged JJ in equal measure. It was not something he would allow. The Court of Owls had threatened his fucking _family_ and for that, he would _destroy_ them. But he wasn't an idiot. One boy, however intelligent or well-connected, would never stand a chance against a secret organization with a small army of brainwashed zombie assassins on their hands. Plus, he had to handle this _quietly_ so Bossy B wouldn't get on his case for killing people. So obviously engaging directly would end badly – either with death or disappointed Batstare, possibly cumulating in being excommunicated out of the family. That would be just as bad as death really.

He took another approach.

* * *

The League of Shadows was an ancient organization of assassins under the leadership of Ra's al Ghul that was bent on catalyzing the reformation of decadent civilizations around the world - essentially terrorists with a mission and resources, very scary people. The Court of Owls was a secret society of psychopathic rich people who controlled the ugly underbelly of Gotham to retain their power and financial security, essentially people who believed their wealth entitled them to wield their power without discrimination and that they could buy their way out of anything. The League of Shadows – previously known as the Order of Assassins and various other names in various other languages – was, as always, making new strides at the forefront of technology in order to remain on top of the inventor's curve and were, naturally, ardent supporters and participants in the digital age. (See Starro-Tech incident.)

The Court of Owls wasn't nearly as sophisticated technologically, not yet trusting such… potentially treacherous and unknown things that would need to be controlled through intermediaries (like hell they would learn themselves), especially with them being unnecessary for the training of their Talons. As such, what little information they did have stored digitally was only minimal placed there by only the most important individuals and leaders of the Court.

They left digital fingerprints that even a _child_ could trace.

And if the League of Shadows was to discover a comparatively young seedling organization of contrasting ideology that _somehow_ for _some incomprehensible reason_ happened to have _certain information_ that they didn't want to be known to the world at large on their servers… well, that organization had to go. Quietly, of course. The League was nothing if not subtle when it wanted to be.

Who would win in a fight: a mindless, zombified killing machine or a highly trained ninja assassin? Who would strike first? Which side would be able to eliminate the other more quickly? Would normal people, the citizens of Gotham, ever discover the reason their rich compatriots suddenly dropped like flies of 'mysterious causes' and 'unfortunate accidents' for that one week in December? In answer: the ninja (duh), the ninja (duh), the ninja (duh), and of course not. The people of Gotham weren't very bright. If they were they would have moved away long ago.

In less than a week, the Court of Owls consisted of exactly zero living members, the bodies had been disposed of, evidence copied and destroyed, and buildings systematically razed to the ground. The League of Shadows continued on as always, information having been recovered and contained. JJ started sifting through his new files and deciding how best to hide his procurement of flammable chemicals from the BatClan. Those who knew said nothing. Those who knew who was responsible… well, they didn't say anything either. It wasn't often a boy came along who could manipulate the shadows.

Lady Shiva had been in charge of the operation. She did not tell her father. The consequences of this would not be seen for some time.

* * *

The young Talon tilted his head at JJ, the boy who had destroyed the Court of Owls that had created him. There was a question in his eyes.

"Of course it was me. Nobody can prove that though, and they never will. Don't tell them," JJ shrugged casually. "I'm still looking through their data, but when I'm done I'll show it to Bossy B in my own time. Don't you worry."

That wasn't the question he had wanted to be answered.

"Because you're family," JJ replied honestly.

The small, defective Talon frowned.

JJ rolled his eyes. "Family isn't blood, but it should be. Blood should love you. Mine didn't. So Dickiebird brought me into his family. I'm family with him. You're blood with him, so you're family with both of us now. Family doesn't allow their family to be treated the way the Court treated you. We do better for each other. The Court was unworthy of treating you, or any member of my family, as badly as they did. They kept you from us. You are one of _my_ people now. _Nobody_ touches my people. So I ensured that there are none of them left."

That was a lot for the talon to deal with all of a sudden. Being family. Being protected. Being lo-… cared about emotionally. He would need time to consider this.

"Take your time," JJ assured. "It'll come to you. And we'll be here for you the whole way."

* * *

"Agent A, you know that gigantic tub that's obviously secretly designed for full-sized adult sex orgies? Fill that one. Yeah. No, I'm not telling you where I heard about sex orgies from. You don't want to know. Trust me. Dick picked up another stray and we're keeping him as soon as we wash the blood off his bones. Normally I'd say skin but he's more bones than skin so I'll stick with... what was I talking about?"

* * *

Conner and Calvin were not identical; they just looked like they were at first glance. Alright, so Calvin's black sclera were kind of a tip-off that something was up that marked them as different genetically, but aside from that, they were still highly similar. But not the same.

Calvin's shoulders were rounder and larger whereas Conner's had a straight almost elegant slope downwards, making Calvin appear slightly broader. Looking at their hands Conner's fingers were slimmer and longer, more pianist in nature than Calvin's callused palms - though both were just as strong. Conner's skin tone was ever-so-slightly more olive than Calvin's. Calvin's hair shone red in the sunlight whereas Conner's was browner, neither of them quite matching the pure black that Clark Kent himself had. It made sense. Bruce had broad shoulders and larger hands. Lex had slightly darker skin and, once upon a time, red hair.

All these differences were completely obvious to the Talon currently hiding on top of the glass showcase of Alfred's finest china. (And it was Alfred's china, not the Wayne china. Everyone knew that.) Were they fraternal twins?

"Hi," Conner greeted, head tilted back to see the Talon properly, Kryptonian eyes making him out easily despite the slight gloom of his hiding place. "I'm Conner."

"I'm Calvin," Calvin greeted shortly. "So you're the one JJ keeps calling Dick Grayson's 'murderclone', huh?"

He didn't expect an answer.

"At some point, we're going to have to do blood work, check to see how old you are. And then we need to get M'gann to do a mind-check for any trigger words, conditioning, that sort of thing. It's nothing personal. Hell, we might as well call it standard procedure by this point. But, uh, at some point you also need to get off the cabinet."

The Talon's head tilt-twitched to the side slightly.

"Because you cannot meet people from up there," Conner explained. "And there's a lot of people who will want to meet you."

The Talon blinked.

"All for good reasons," Calvin shrugged. "Don't you worry. I can't promise you'll never meet anyone who wants to hurt you, but we'll try to warn you if you need to be on guard."

The Talon's shoulders squared slightly, hunched as he was between the top of the cabinet and the ceiling.

"That's a long way away," Conner dismissed. "You're good until then. You're family. We look after family."

The Talon's ears pricked up quickly.

"Yeah, you haven't met them all yet," Calvin nodded. "You've met JJ, obviously. The kid's a spaz but a good heart. And Richard. As near as we can figure you're his clone. Then there's Conner and me. He's my half brother. We don't talk about his father. My father is Bruce, he's everyone's dad either biologically or by adoption. Well, he's more like JJ's uncle but whatever. Then there's Jason. He's our second youngest, a few months older than JJ. Just a heads up, if he scowls it means he likes you. He's not a prickly as he pretends to be. You can meet Cam via skype since she's at college - whatever you do don't call her Cameron or Jr., she gets offended. And Alfred is technically the butler but he's really more like everyone's awesome grandfather who keeps us all from dying of starvation or sleep deprivation. His cookies are awesome and we need to feed you those as soon as possible, because you look way too skinny. And then Barbara you can meet when she gets out of school for the afternoon."

The Talon had been trained to retain important information given to him quickly and efficiently. This was obviously important information.

"Get down from there so we can stop Dick from having his nervous breakdown about being cloned into twin-hood and the possibility of being a bad brother and then go see if Alfred's made cookies yet," Conner suggested. "New family members means cookies, right?" he asked his brother.

Calvin shrugged. "It's worth celebrating and I'm sure we can always ask."

"Awesome, let's get out of here." Conner grinned. "Is it bad that I think Alfred's cookies are better than M'gann's?"

"Only if she hears you think that," Calvin warned. "Then you'll be in trouble. That girl can _hurt_ when she wants to."

The talon's eyes narrowed by the smallest of margins.

Conner snorted dismissively. "She won't really hurt us," he assured him. "She's a friend. Nothing she'd do to us would genuinely hurt or leave permanent marks."

The talon resolved to keep an eye out for this M'gann anyway. Just to be safe.

* * *

"My _name_" he growled, "is _not_ Dick Grayson. I'm not _Robin_. I'm _Renegade!_"

"Did you get cloned again?" Wally asked Dick. "Seriously?"

"He might not be _my_ clone," Dick argued weakly, wilting under Wendy's unimpressed glare. "He might be Dark Knight's."

"_It's the same damn thing!_" Wally insisted. "Stop getting _cloned!_"

Renegade grit his teeth angrily. "I am not a _clone_," he snapped. "I'm an assassin apprenticed to Master Deathstroke! And I'm here to kill you."

"To be fair, you're probably all of these things," Kid Flash pointed out. He turned to Dick. "You're keeping him aren't you?"

"I don't think he wants to be kept," Robin admitted.

"He'll come around. You got JJ, didn't you?"


	19. Nyugen Family Drama

**(AN: This bit of backstory is **_**loosely**_ **inspired by Xanderlike's fic Single Dad. You should check it out!) **

* * *

**-Jade POV- **

Naturally, I was pretending to watch TV, but I wasn't fooling myself. I was sitting up for them again, waiting. I don't know why. I was thirteen and they were… well, _old_. They could take care of themselves. And yet here I was, still awake worrying about parents that obviously didn't care about _us_. I'd put Apollo to bed ages ago. It was past midnight.

There were sounds at the door, sounds of footsteps and muttered curses. I felt my blood run cold all of a sudden. I didn't know what… but something had gone wrong. Something had happened. Neither of my parents ever made such careless noise coming home. You never saw them coming and then all of a sudden I was hearing them before they entered the room? Don't be ridiculous. And yet…

This was everything I'd always been afraid of. This is why I waited up every night they were gone, meaning most nights. Because I knew something like this could happen - _would _happen, someday. And now it had. What exactly was I supposed to do? What exactly had gone wrong? Why couldn't I just get up off the couch and go and see for myself and why couldn't I just _move dammit!_ I couldn't tell if I was breathing or not.

And then the door opened.

It was Dad. And he didn't have Mom with him. He was also covered in blood. Granted, that wasn't too special, but there was a difference between being splattered in the blood of your enemies and having a large blotch against your chest and lap. He wasn't injured. My brain began creating horrible, terrifying images. And they were worse because I knew they could all be real, and some of them probably were.

"Jade," he ordered breathlessly, "Wake your little brother. We've got to move. We've got to move now. Grab your stuff too. Pack light."

I moved to obey but at the same time, I had to ask. "Dad, where's mom?"

"... Go get your brother."

"Oh." And I knew she wasn't coming. Mom was never coming home.

* * *

**-Sportsmaster POV-**

"Uhm? Mr. Friday the 13th?" There was only one person in the world with the balls to call me that. And yet I have never in my life heard JJ sound so… tentative. Nor did I know what he was doing here. He must have heard about Paula. The news was spreading faster than I expected. That wasn't good.

I turned around. "What do you want kid, and make it fast, time's a-wasting and I've gotta make tracks." He _was_ just a kid after all, younger than my littlest too.

JJ was standing in the middle of the hallway looking incredibly small. He had on an oversized sweatshirt and a fully stuffed duffel bag was thrown over one shoulder, making him lean off to one side to maintain balance. As long as it wasn't a bomb I didn't particularly care that it was bigger than he was. "I got this for you," he told me, shrugging the bag off with a thunk. He partially unzipped it. I say inside and felt my eyebrows go up. "Nobody'll really miss it back home an' I know ya didn't get paid for your last gig and if you wanna go straight or even if you don't you're gonna have to have money, right? So you c'n have this."

There must have been a couple tens of thousands in there. It was all large, non-sequential bills. "Kid, you sure your parents won't notice?" I asked. There was no way I was saying no to that money. But I didn't want to get the kid in trouble for me. What kind of man would I be if I relied on a five-year-old for help when the underfed scrap of a boy hadn't even lived in Gotham for a full year? JJ was too small to stand up to much of a beating and his father wasn't exactly known for having the best self-control.

He shook his head so fast his hood fell off. He had already had a fresh black eye. "I won't get in any more trouble than I already have," he assured me, choosing his words carefully. I got the feeling he had already taken a beating judging by the way he was holding himself but I didn't call him on it. "I'll be okay."

"Thank you, JJ," I told him, bending down to ruffle his hair for a moment and look him in the too-green eyes. "This'll be a huge help."

"There's this too," he told me, holding out a box. "You're red, Archer's green and Whiskers is blue. I don't have time to get ridda the purple before you go though. It was gonna be for- nevermind."

I opened it. Two pendants and a bracelet. Each one had four different colored gems on them. I took the bracelet out and looked it over.

"Push the red one, that's you," JJ instructed. Trying it, the red gems on the pendants lit up, shining out persistently. "Push it again." I did it and it stopped. "You can use them for morse code if you really want, but they're mostly just an alert system. They're waterproof too - up to twenty meters. I'm not sure how pretty the pendants are because they're supposed ta be for Whiskers and Archer but Archer probably didn't want anything too girly and I'm not so sure how well tha' worked out because it's still a necklace with fake jewels on it, not even teeth or something so it's not very manly but I figured it'd help. They're solar powered and hold a charge like ah calculator, basically don' run out. The signal shouldn' be traceable by technology for at least another decade and they won' get outta range even on the other side of the planet. They were gonna be fer Christmas, but I figured now was better."

The kid made them. There wasn't a doubt in my mind. He couldn't have afforded them otherwise. And if JJ said they'd work, then they'd fucking work. This sort of thing could save my kid's lives. It would keep Jade from staying up at night worrying all the time, knowing we were safe. (I ignored the voice in my head that said it shouldn't be necessary, and they _couldn't_ do that now.) I honestly didn't have the ability to repay the kid.

"JJ, do you want to come with us?" I asked. It was the best I could offer. And I knew what his answer would be.

His eyes went wide. _Heh_. It's always good to surprise a genius, even a young one like the kid. But he sagged down disappointedly and shook his head. "I gots my mom to look after," he said. "I gotta stay fer her. We've all gotta look after our precious people, Mr. Friday the 13th. Look after yer family."

I nodded. "Knew you'd say something like that," I muttered, shrugging on the duffel bag easily. It was so much lighter for me than it was for JJ, though body mass had something to do with it. Turning to go I called over my shoulder, "Good luck kid, we're all going to need it."

"Good luck Mr. Friday the 13th. Say goodbye to Archer and Whiskers for me, okay? An' I'm sorry about Tiger Lady. She was good. You take care o' yer kids, and I'll take care ah yer revenge."

I paused. _Revenge_. I can't say I didn't want it. Hell, I might even _need_ it if I ever wanted to get over- what happened back on that rooftop. But JJ was just a kid. He was only five years old dammit. He shouldn't be doing things like that. "No." I ordered. "Paula doesn't need revenge. You've done more than enough, kid. Don't let me hear you went and got yourself killed, alright? It'd break my kids' little hearts. Got it?"

"..." I wasn't sure he was going to answer. "Yessir." JJ agreed. He meant it.

"Good." I started walking again. I needed to get my own kids to safety. Away from Gotham. Away from here. "Stay safe, kid."

"Stay safe, Mr. Friday the 13th."

* * *

**-Jade POV-**

We were in the car driving away. Well… someone else's car. Dad stole it. Apollo had already cried himself to sleep in the back seat, clutching his stupid stuffed rabbit to his chest with a death grip. I needed to say something spiteful and hurtful or I might start crying too and wake him up after all my hard work putting him to sleep. "So, Apollo's mom died when he was nine. And his dad is never around. I guess you're lucky you've got a mature adult to look after him in me, right, Daddy Dearest?"

Dad's eyes didn't turn from the road but his grip tightened on the wheel. "I'm sorry."

"I've never heard that one before," I pointed out mildly. "And it's not a real apology if you'd do it again, given the chance."

"I won't leave you two alone again," Daddy Dearest vowed. I didn't believe him. "I promised your mother. And I'm promising the both of you. I'm getting you away from the Life."

"Because you've never promised that before," I bit back sarcastically.

And he had nothing to say to that. Because it was true. They'd tried going straight when Apollo was born. It didn't last. Just built my hopes up and tore them down again. I'd stopped hoping since then. It was easier. It was also harder.

* * *

**-Apollo POV- -A few days later-**

"Hey there, little guy," Dad greeted, "What do you want to do today?"

I glanced over at my big sister, then back at Dad. "We could train?" I suggested cautiously, unsure of myself.

Dad frowned. _Did I say something wrong?_ "Do you really want to train or are you just saying that?"

I hesitated. "I… don't really want to train," I admitted. "But… can we just go shooting? I like shooting! I just… I always hurt all over after training and I- it's not any fun." I almost said that I hated training but I didn't want to make my dad angry. I definitely didn't want that. I couldn't meet his eyes.

I remembered Dad being angry. It was scary. But… I also remember some nights when he'd come home late and check on me and I'd pretend to be asleep, counting in my head to make sure my breath was even. I knew my dad really did love me and Jade. And I loved him too, though I wasn't sure if Jade did. I also knew that my dad wasn't a good person. I wasn't sure what to do with that. I wasn't about to stop loving him, but I didn't want him to be the bad guy anymore.

* * *

**-Sportsmaster POV-**

My kids were scared of me. And I never even realized it before now. I mean… sure, I'd always been hard on them. The Life was hard for everyone. I wanted them to be strong enough, to be ready for what was inevitably coming for them, to beat it. There was no getting out of the Life. Once you were there there was no going back. I'd thought otherwise once but after all the times I'd tried to leave I knew better. Yet here I was, trying again. Trying to leave the Life.

Trying to leave the Life behind. Because Paula asked me to. _Lawrence, don't let our babies end up like this. Don't let them live this Life_. And I promised. So even though it was impossible, I'd do it anyway. I had to find a way, maybe not for myself, but for my kids. _Our_ kids, for all that Paula was gone now. They were still her kids too. Even if she wasn't… _couldn't_ be here for them anymore.

"That's okay, kiddo," I promised my son. "You don't have to train today. We can just go shooting if you want."

I saw Jade's head shoot up out of the corner of my eye. "No training _today_?" she asked me.

We both knew what she was really asking. "Not if you don't want to," I promised. I _needed_ my kids to be strong enough to fight back. But I didn't want them to have to go through hell to get that way. They deserved better. I could take it easy. I could take a step back. I'd just have to protect them more. I could do that. I ignored the fact that Paula had had excellent training and I _still_ hadn't been able to protect her. Anything to win. But that didn't mean I had to hurt my kids in the process. The endgame was them safe. They should be safe and _happy_. They couldn't be happy if I destroyed them keeping them safe. Not _my_ kids. "I just want you guys to be safe," I admitted. "So, Apollo, shooting?"

Next thing I knew I had a happily chatting child climbing my leg like a monkey, babbling about his bow and how good he was going to be when he grew up. Like Robin Hood. I felt my heart twist in a mix of pride, fear and, somewhere in the back of all that, nostalgia. Apollo still thought he could take on the world. I just had to teach him how.

* * *

Jade was crying. More to the point, Jade was sobbing her heart out, nearly in hysterics and I didn't know what to do or how to fix it. This would be so much simpler if I could just kill whoever had hurt her, but this wasn't that type of situation. I couldn't do that. There was no 'just fixing' this. I couldn't bring Jade's mother back. I wasn't sure what I could do, what I should say.

"Are you okay?" I tried. That sounded good in my head, but once I said it I felt kind of stupid. Of course, she wasn't okay, even I could see that.

"It's not like it's that different or anything," Jade sobbed out, "We're still on the move, we're still running, she's _still_ not here but…" she interrupted herself with a particularly hard bout of sobbing before regaining her breath. "But now she never _will_ be! She's never coming home! I saw this coming! I _knew_ this would happen!" I felt my chest tighten but didn't step toward my daughter. I felt as though I didn't know how. "Ever since I can remember, its 'we'll be home late' or 'don't wait up' or 'watch your brother for us, would you?' and never once did you think about how it felt to just sit in an empty room with your baby brother, wondering if your parents would come home! I expected that one day _you wouldn't_! And she _won't_! And I don't know if it's worse or better that I don't have to wait anymore!" She broke down after that, furiously trying to wipe away the tears with her hands and failing because of how fast they fell. "I hate this! I hate this Life! I hate you for coming home so I can watch you leave again! I hate her for dying! I hate Apollo for not knowing what's going on! I hate being so fucking useless and not being able to do _shit _to make it better! And why can't I just be angry instead of sitting here crying!"

That's when I grabbed Jade and held her close. Jade was thirteen. Just a little too big to be properly held in anyone's lap but I made it work. I felt as though I had to. Jade struggled a bit and flailed against my chest but I didn't let her go. I still have nightmares about what could have happened if I'd let her go, let her run away from me, let her go through this alone.

"Your mother loved you," I told her. I pretended not to hear the tears in my voice or feel them on my cheeks. "So damn much. Both of you. We thought-" My voice broke slightly but I continued on. "We thought we were doing what we had to. So we had enough money for you two to go to school. Neither of us knew how to hold normal jobs, couldn't get them if we did. We were already wanted. It was what we knew. We just wanted the best for you. The training, everything. And we were _wrong_ and I'm _so sorry_ that I let you down. I can't-" I actually had to take a breath and wallow around the rock in my throat. "I can't change what happened. I can't make it up to you." And oh, how it _hurt_ to admit that. "But I swear to you. I swear, I'll make it better. I can't make things perfect, but I can make it better. I _will_. You and your brother mean more to me than anything else in this world. I thought we were keeping you _safe_ when I should've been making you _happy_ and I'm so sorry that I couldn't see the difference."


	20. Kyd Wykkyd

**-Kyd Wykkyd-**

My name is Kyd Wykkyd. Or at least, that is the name I have decided to give myself. I have yet to actually require the use of a name so I haven't actually had a reason to give it to anybody else yet. I doubt that anyone will ever think to either care or ask about my name though.

I am, in the main essence of things, not entirely real. Or at least, I was never supposed to be. Now that I do exist, my purpose is simply to serve my Master. I am not overly fond of my purpose. Master Klarion is a Lord of Chaos, the Witch Boy. He loves to wreak destruction and pain upon the Mortal Plain. I do not, if only because my nature is different than it was meant to be. That is to say, my Master and I are not the same.

Magic is alive, a force of nature with a will all its own, albeit only semi-sentient and aware. Chaos Magic is in many ways even more so. A true practitioner of magic, no matter how powerful and transcendent their abilities may be, can only hold a limited amount of magic within their chosen vessel. For most magicians, that vessel would be their mortal bodies. For a Lord of Magic, their essence (and the vast expanse of magical power inherent to said essence) would be far too much for a mortal form and instead, they require a medium through which to channel their powers on the Mortal Plain. In my master's case, he chose his familiar, Teekl, as a means to project his own physical body into this world. So long as the cat remains here, so too can he.

Master Karion attempted to cheat a way out of this by creating a loophole. By creating a spiritual body here on the Mortal Plain, he sought to bypass the need to channel his magic through a familiar and eliminate his greatest weakness. But it didn't work out that way. As I said before, Magic is alive. And She does not like to be cheated. Master Klarion's spiritual body was created easily enough, but it was formed of raw Chaos Magic and gained a consciousness and will of its own. It became me. And since I am already alive and have a soul (somehow... it should be impossible but I'm not complaining) Master Klarion cannot possess my body and cannot exist on the Mortal Plain through me.

I don't have a physical body in the traditional sense. I am a being of shadows. Grey skin, red pupil-less eyes, dark purple hair and an intolerance for direct sunlight make me… well, I'm not entirely sure actually. I know I'm not human. I'm just shaped like one. I don't have organs or bones; I'm made up of just shadow on the inside. And the outside It's what I'm made of - shadows and magic. I don't need to breathe or eat or even sleep really, though rest is good after using up too much energy. I am actually a very useful tool, even if I'm not what was originally intended.

Naturally, Master Klarion threw a fit upon discovering that his attempt had failed. I was punished for my unwitting part in it. I was punished for coming into being when my consciousness was unwanted. Master Klarion bound my voice. I have never spoken a word or made a sound, and I never will. There is no reversing the curse. Which is, of course, crippling to my magical abilities. I cannot cast worded spells. The only thing I can still do is use the shadows. Mind you, shadows have almost limitless potential. Theoretically, with enough practice and discipline and training, I could become a Lord of Shadows in the same way Master Klarion is a Lord of Chaos or Dr. Fate is a Lord of Order. I have the power, the potential, but not the knowledge or experience for that sort of thing because I've only existed for thirteen days now. I am _very_ far from the day I can live up to and properly unlock that potential. And I probably won't live long enough to reach that day. Master Klarion will likely kill me during one of his hissy-fits long before I reach any sort of real strength.

It took me a while to come to the conclusion that I don't actually want that to happen. I actually want to keep existing. It's one thing to be conscious and aware, but to want things for myself? Maybe I'm more real that I thought I was… All this being said, persisting with my decision to exist means obeying Master Klarion without question (not that I can speak any questions I might have anyway). So when he says 'find this guy and suck him through a shadow portal', I find the guy and suck him through a shadow portal. His name was Kent Nelson. And that was the start of my very first adventure.

His name was Kent Nelson.

And that was the start of my very first adventure.

I wanted to practice forming opinions and started coming up with them for everything that crossed my path. It seemed a good way to help develop my consciousness and identity. I did not want to be a copy of my Master. Master Klarion was, in my opinion, a whiny brat, but also very scary and I didn't want to know what would happen if he ever went all out. Teekl was a little diva and a bully. Abra Kadabra was a phony and a loser, granted reasonably clever, though that may just be because he's using technology from the future that makes him seem smart so he's also a cheater. This building was ugly and depressing. And Kent Nelson… he was _awesome_. He was strong and _nice_ and kinda funny and _brave_. I decided that I liked Kent Nelson. I did not however like him more than I liked existing, and so did nothing. It grew surprisingly difficult as time drew on. I was unsure, however, if I was becoming fonder of Kent Nelson or less fond of living. Preferably the first.

Twenty-three days. That's how long Kent Nelson had been here. He hadn't budged an inch. And despite the way my innards writhed and swirled and billowed as I saw what happened to him, I held myself perfectly still and did nothing. Abra Kadabra was human and actually required sleep, so that's probably what he was doing. Klarion went outside to go destroy something because Mr. Nelson was pissing him off and he didn't want to kill someone in a fit of rage that he still wanted to play with by accident. I was on guard. There wasn't much to do. Mr. Nelson couldn't possibly have escaped even if I weren't here. I was reasonably impressed he was even conscious.

"You know son," Mr. Nelson spoke suddenly, surprising me, not that I showed it on the outside, "there are better people who would be willing to Apprentice you than Klarion. And you don't seem particularly suited to your Master."

I stared at him. I wasn't sure what it was that I wanted to say but I wished (not for the first time) that I could speak. It didn't happen.

"You don't talk much, do you?" he asked me.

I stared at him, not blankly but hesitantly. With a lifted hand and a wordless spell, I dissolved the shadows which formed my clothes around my neck. Mr. Nelson's eyes widened slightly in recognition. He knew what the marks around my neck meant. I swallowed and looked away silently. I couldn't offer any more explanation if I wanted to, not that it was needed anyway.

"Well that's a doozy," he realized. "There's no getting that off. But you already knew that."

I nodded.

"...You don't want to be here either, do you?" Mr. Nelson asked me. I think he already knew the answer.

I hesitated before looking down and shaking my head in defeat, lowering my ears slightly.

"Don't you worry there. Soon enough my friends will come to help me. I'm sure they'll help you too if you'd like." The very thought provoked an odd, fluttering sensation in my chest. I wasn't sure what it was, probably some sort of physical manifestation of internal emotion. Magic was easily affected by emotion after all and my body was fueled by magic so it only made sense. Then Mr. Nelson asked another question. I didn't know questions could make you happy. "What's your name, son?"

I felt the corners of my lips twitch up slightly. It was a strange reaction to have. I paused, unsure of how to communicate my name to the old man before turning and spelling my name out one letter at a time in black flames across the air. Fire and shadows didn't mix very easily and I'd purposely done a sloppy job so that they wouldn't be too strong or difficult to control. _**Kyd Wykkyd**_. I spelled it that way on purpose. I liked how spiky the letters looked when written out and it had a K like Klarion and Kadabra and Kent. Maybe it was a silly way to pick a name, but I'd never heard any 'normal' names, so it was the best I could do. I actually enjoyed having what was probably an odd name. It was better than nothing and I'd chosen it myself. Maybe someday someone could help me pick a more normal name…

"It's nice to meet you, Kyd Wykkyd," Mr. Nelson said, not at all thrown off by my name. Maybe it wasn't as strange as I thought.

I nodded to him and put a fist over my chest where my heart would be if I were human. I was pretty sure that was a greeting, wasn't it?

Mr. Nelson chuckled slightly. "Nowadays most people just shake hands or wave, but I like your style, Kyd. Don't lose it."

I cocked my head to the side but nodded.

* * *

I didn't interfere when the strange new people came. I was ordered to stay out of sight and out of sight I stayed. No more no less. Then I got a new order.

"Don't let him put on the helmet!" Master Klarion ordered.

And I had to obey his orders. The only way I could stop the speedster fast enough (because he was a _speedster_ and I was _not_) was to switch places with him. I teleported just as the golden helmet came down over what _would_ have been his head. It landed on mine instead. And I screamed.

And I screamed.

It _hurt_. There was a Lord of _Order_ possessing my body forged through _Chaos!_ I'm sure Dr. Fate was doing something with my body, probably fighting Master Klarion or something, but I couldn't be sure. Everything hurt! It was like everything that was supposed to be at least semi-solid in my body was melted loose and wisping away. I lost control of my shadows. My mindscape was being ripped apart before my eyes. I could feel myself shrinking as I leaked magic, trying to fight off the possession. I was losing. I was going to fade. And I was terrified.

_I didn't mean for this to happen... Somebody help me… _

_Somebody help me… _

_At least I got the chance to use my name, just once…_

* * *

**-Wally POV-**

Okay, I'm no magician (because magic doesn't exist!) but I'm pretty sure that Dr. Fate isn't supposed to be black, smoking, screaming, shrinking or generally writhing in pain. Klarion froze, then started laughing. It was a bit like hearing JJ laugh when he was in his crazy mode - you knew whatever set him off wasn't actually funny and you weren't sure you wanted to know what it was that set him off exactly.

"Oh this is great!" he bragged, "Now they can destroy each other! Get them both out of my way!"

That sounded bad. Dr. Fate (and that creepy kid who popped out of nowhere) being destroyed would definitely be bad. I ran forward, narrowly dodging Klarion's creepy shadow claws. I'd seen what those things did to Kent's glowy dome, I didn't want that happening to me. I ripped the helmet away from the guy's head and he fell forward, collapsed.

"Aww," Klarion whined, "they lived." A very creepy (inhumanly creepy!) expression morphed across his face. "I'll just have to fix that later. Now give me the helmet!"

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," I told him, narrowly dodging one of his hands as it swept across the rooftop.

"You can't keep dodging forever!" he challenged. This was starting to feel like whack-a-mole. I didn't like being the rodent. "Just hold still already!" he ordered. The hands transformed into giant blades and cut diagonally across the roof. I just barely managed to jump between them. It'd changed from whack-a-mole to jump rope. I noticed the blade just barely passing over the prone body of Klarion's minion who was still lying on the floor where he had fallen, unmoving.

"Dammit, this isn't working," I muttered. So I did the only thing I could think of. I put on the helmet.

"Um… hello?"

* * *

**-Kyd Wykkyd POV-**

Wally was still talking. I tapped him lightly on the shoulder. He jumped about a foot in the air. I winced slightly and looked down. I didn't mean to startle him, I just wanted to get his attention.

"Geez! Someone should put a bell on you," he said.

I gave Wally an incredulous look. A bell? Somehow I sincerely doubted that would work. If I touched it directly, it would be robbed of sound too. I thought Zatara had explained this to everyone. Granted he was kind of talking down to everyone, but he _did_ explain. Next second Wally was gone. And back. With a bell. And a collar. Huh.

"Ta-da! Here!" Wally held it out to me at arm's length. "Now you can stop scaring people witless and I can stop having heart attacks."

Were heart attacks really bad? They were, right? For humans? I'd been _hurting_ Wally!

"No, no, no, no," he assured me quickly. "Not _literal_ heart attacks. Just figurative ones."

What the everloving fuck is a 'figurative heart attack'? And did I really just freak out over that?

"Yeah, I know, people are weird," he dismissed. "Anyway, so with the collar that'll work right? And you can absorb it when we're on missions or whatever. Right?"

I nodded at him. Taking the collar I just sort of blinked at it.

"Here, I got it," Wally offered, taking the collar and buckling it around my neck comfortably.

I ran a thumb over the leather, a smile growing at the corners of my mouth. I don't exactly need much stuff like humans do. Clothes, food, whatever. I'm fine without, I essentially provide for myself so long as there's shadow. I don't even need air the same way humans do. So this is the first time in my life anyone had given me something. Wally didn't understand sign language and while I _could_ spell it out with shadowfire, that was a pain in the neck. So I did something out of character and hugged him instead. I was grateful. I was glad.

Wally hugged me back. "I'm glad I finally did something right for you," he admitted. "I keep screwing up and hurting you by accident, so… yeah."

I cocked my head to one side before shrugging. Wally very much so lived in the world of science. I didn't blame him for not understanding some things. Like magic in general. Granted Wally stuck his foot in his mouth a lot, but that was fine. I just sort of figured it was in his nature. I was willing to respect that.

* * *

Kyd adored the cave. It was dark, there were places to hide, it wasn't damp mold or dusty. And most importantly there were _people_. People who didn't hate him even, for the first time in his existence! (There was Kent, but he was also being tortured and held prisoner and probably wouldn't have stuck around if he had any choice in the matter so Kyd figured that he didn't really count.)

Red Tornado was strange. He was similar in that he was non-human and non-biological… but he was also a robot. (Android. Kyd didn't know if there was a difference.) He was a personification of science and the opposite of mysticism. They were opposites. And neither of them knew how to 'act' human properly. Actually, Kyd wasn't sure that he _wanted_ to _act_ like something he wasn't. If he could suddenly (magically) become corporeal, he would, even if it meant he would have access to fewer of his powers. But that was impossible. Because he wasn't human. His body was collected from shadows and held together by magic. 'Human' had nothing to do with being a literal personification of darkness. Even his creator had been a Lord of Chaos, not even homo-sapien magi.

Most of the people here seemed okay with him despite that fact. Things with Wally though… were awkward. Wally still refused to believe in magic. And that hurt. Not physically, but… some other way Kyd wasn't yet sure how to name. How could Wally accept _him_ if he actively rejected the very thing which made up the essential and absolute essence of Kyd's being? It just wasn't possible. And yet… Wally learned sign language. He gave him the bell… sure it was a joke but the gesture was appreciated. Honestly, the young speedster meant well… so Kyd just didn't know what to do.

Kyd couldn't speak, and while there were days when that weighed down on him so heavily he feared he might collapse under the silence, it helped that in general, he was a relatively quiet person. By nature, Kyd preferred to observe and learn rather than to ask questions directly or to actively seek answers. As he watched he saw things that others didn't notice or pay attention to, things no one else knew were there. Kyd paid particular attention to the people he was surrounded by since they were always moving and always active and so responsive and changing to the world around them, while constantly changing their world and the world in general in their turn. It was fascinating. And it was beautiful, especially when they interacted with each other.

JJ, in particular, seemed to have a tactile fixation. He would reach out and brush his hand across Apollo's wrist the second he seemed to start being upset and he'd return the gesture by taking his hand and moving his thumb across the back of it once or twice in apparent reassurance, even without looking sometimes. And the climbing. JJ climbed on people, especially tall ones. He would walk up, grab Conner's arm and clamber up so he was perched quite happily on the clone's shoulder, beaming down at people, and Conner would let him, merely looping an arm across the front of his legs so he wouldn't fall. Whenever Wally or Robin sat down, JJ would up and hop into their laps, burrowing into their sides happily. He always seemed quite content there. Sometimes JJ would take one of Kaldur's hands and poke at the webbing between his fingers curiously, playing with it and Kaldur would smile indulgently and continue what he was doing with his other hand unconcerned. He'd hug people from behind and scamper away before they could turn around and hug him back. Even without touching anyone, JJ was always physical in his speech and active in his thoughts. When he talked, he moved not just his arms but his whole body as though swaying to the meaning of his own words.

It was JJ's face, however, that taught Kyd the most.

It was moments like these where Kyd would reach out a hand of his own to the youngest(ish) boy. With a small shy smile which only sometimes reached his eyes JJ would take his hand. Sometimes he'd just hold it and that would be enough. Sometimes he'd pace it on his own head and Kyd would ruffle his hair for him, preening gently. Other times he'd duck under it completely and bury himself in Kyd's side, nuzzling closer, and Kyd would allow him to seep into his shadowy body a little bit and hold him closer than a purely physical being would be remotely capable of. But Kyd was a being of shadows and magic (and silence) so he could. And for JJ's sake, he would.


	21. Leonidas Kyle

The boy who would later go on to become Leonidas Kyle was originally a regular human being named James. James Spinnet. James was the son of a junkie and a gangbanger, and early surprise that got his mom kicked out by her parents and that his dad was never told about. His childhood was pretty pathetic. His mother switched between boyfriends willing to pay for her drugs in exchange for sex. Some of them were better than others and some of them beat both him and his mother. James hated all of them.

His attendance at any sort of regular education facility was a joke, though thankfully his mother pushed him hard enough to be literate and do basic maths. That was about it. James didn't see the point in learning anything else. They weren't practical skills. He'd never need any of that shit so why should he bother?

When he was ten his mother ODed. He was the one who found her. There was no more rent and he was homeless.

James Spinnet became Jem. Jem became a pickpocket. He could steal a woman's necklace from her very neck without any the wiser. He was pretty proud of that. He could get by. He slept in alleyways and under overhangs, ate what he could afford, had an established network of pawnshops and bathed in the public restroom sink. Jem's ribs stuck out and his eyes were sharp. He learned to run fast and how to barter well. He kept a penknife in his pocket and held it when he was nervous, despite not knowing how to use it or even how to hold it properly. Jem was a perfectly typical citizen of Gotham City.

Nobody noticed when he went missing.

* * *

The cat which would later go on to become Leonidas Kyle was originally a regular cat which nobody bothered naming. She was the largest of her litter, thankfully, and the only one to survive all the way to adolescence. Her father was once a housecat, born to a life of luxury and declawed to prove it. She would never meet him and in all probability, a housecat wouldn't last long on the streets of Starling. Her mother was a street cat born and bred. All black with pale green eyes.

She inherited a combination of her parents' looks. From her mother her black fur. From her father her unusual blue eyes. She couldn't blame either of her parents for not being there. They did their part for the survival of the species. Now it was her turn and she'd do her part. The purpose of life is, at a biological level, reproduction. Which involves sex. Naturally.

Nobody noticed when she went missing.

* * *

The being which could not figure out its name - but would later go on to become Leonidas Kyle - was created in a laboratory. It was confused and didn't understand much at all at first. Its body was strange and behaved weirdly. Its thoughts and memories were scrambled. Its reactions were entirely instinctual and its instincts couldn't figure out what was going on.

Slowly, thoughts became regulated by words over impressions. Sights and sounds were given names, or rather, the names were remembered(?). There were flashes. Bits and pieces. Being hungry. Running. The smell of cigaret smoke. But it couldn't figure out what these pieces meant. They didn't make and sort of sense.

There was food delivered regularly. That was something. But it - _he_, it discovered only after checking himself - knew that there was something wrong. There was no outdoors - survivable. There were no others of his kind - never a good sign. There was no space to move - even worse. There was pain and shocks sometimes - electricity some part of his brain whispered. There was blood taken with the needles - and needles were bad. There was the struggle. And he made a decision. He would get out.

He would get out and he would be something more. Not what he was but… something else. Maybe… maybe, if he were lucky, some_one_.

* * *

"Okay so, I looked at that thing you wanted me to check," JJ supplied.

"And?" Leon asked, ears twitching towards him.

"Well, I found a really, _really_ painful way to kill you by literally ripping your cells apart atom by atom. Like _oh-my-god_."

"Huh?"

"I turned a mouse into a gaseous state and then back. It was… upsetting. To say the least."

"Okay, ew, but what does that have to do with me?"

"Well… here's the thing. The mouse was… well all biological functions returned to normal with a single exception. Little mousie's brain… about as useful as mush."

"Did you find a way around it?"

"Eeeh…" JJ made a so-so gesture. "I can keep a mouse brain intact, yeah. Found a way to do that but… you don't have a mouse brain. And, worse, you have a plethora of memories that developed _after_ your transference of state. Even if I could separate the body of the boy and the cat, I have absolutely no hope of saving your brain in any way. I can't keep your conscious in two separate bodies, can't separate your consciousness and then insert it into a separate body, can't tell your cat from your human, can't just erase everything post-transference of state because your pre-transference memories are basically fucked. I can't do this without literally ripping your mind apart and destroying most of the more important pieces in the process. I'm sorry."

Leon held himself very still, not letting his face react. JJ noticed his ears flop down in defeat. "I see." He hugged himself with his tail.

"I'm sorry. It's not that there's nothing I can do. It's just that the only things I _can_ do would kill you - or worse - in the process."

"Is there a chance someone else could help?"

"Scientifically speaking, no," JJ admitted. "The science just isn't there and won't be for… decades at least. Maybe centuries. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I gave you hope and took it away. I'm still sorry."


	22. Terry McGinnis & Lucius Fox & JJ

Terry was having a really slaggy day. So, so slaggy. So naturally when he went to dodge some sort of energy beam and landed on his ass. Or rather, he should have. The floor wasn't supposed to be this far away! How'd he get _outside?!_ Several stories up! Thank god his suit could glide or he'd be screwed. And then Ace fell out of the sky too and Terry cursed. The Bat Dog _couldn't_ fly. He was a _dog_. Terry was changing direction to catch him when- some… _other_… bat-person caught Ace and landed on a nearby roof. Seriously? This was just going to be a really slaggy day.

Terry landed in front of the other as-yet unidentified Bat-Person. "Uh, thanks for the save but… who are you?" he asked. "And… where did all the buildings go? And the blimps? And the _smog?_ Wasn't it night a second ago? Is that the _old_ Wayne Tower? Please tell me that's not the old Wayne Tower and I took a hit to the head or something."

"I'm Batman," the… other Batman said. "Who are you?"

"Batman," Terry admitted. "This is going to be one of those really slaggy days, isn't it?"

"... Probably. What year do you think it is?"

"2XXX."

"It's 2015."

"Slag."

* * *

"So…" Dick drew the word out as long as it would stretch. "You're the new Batman from the future of a parallel dimension."

"Yep."

Dick couldn't help but ask. He was from a parallel dimension anyway and not just the straight up future of this dimension, which meant things would be different anyway. "What happened to-"

"Bruce got old," Terry shrugged like it didn't weigh on his shoulders heavily even though it did. "A heart-attack a few years back. I've held the mantle since long before then; he helped me start out. My Dick Grayson stuck with Nightwing out in Bludhaven. Old by the time I entered the field. Last I heard he retired to spend more time with his smoking-hot but also very scary half-alien daughter with laser eyes and his shape-shifting grandbabies - don't ask, I think they get it from their father. Tim Drake got… uh, well he survived but he retired after the JJ Incident. Barbra Gordon became the Chief Commissioner of Gotham City and remains terrifyingly badass who can doubtless kick anyone's ass to this day."

"What about Jason Todd?" One of the many dark-haired boys asked. Terry wasn't sure he'd gotten names, to begin with.

"Uhm never heard of a Jason Todd," he winced. "The one time I asked about the middle suit Bruce just kinda didn't talk to me for a week so I didn't bring it up again. So I have no idea what happened to him, just that it wasn't good and the old man blamed himself."

"And the JJ Incident?" Dick asked.

That had not been fun. "Short version goes like this: Joker kidnapped Tim Drake and tried to brainwash him into becoming his son and heir. Tim killed the Joker accidentally/on-purpose, retired with lots of therapy at like, age eleven. Later when he was an adult he then got possessed by the Joker's DNA and memories until I got it out of him. Good man. Bad luck. Oh, and everyone nearly died somewhere in there too but we made it."

"So what you're saying is…" a new voice interrupted from the rafters. "In your universe… I didn't exist?"

"Depends who you are?" Terry admitted, glancing up.

JJ dropped from the ceiling. "I'm the Joker's biological son. I was born JJ. They used to call me Laughing Jack."

"You're better now," Red Hood reminded him. "You're on your meds and you're helping people."

JJ nodded gratefully. "I know," he agreed. "Can't change my blood though."

"So you're not evil," Terry surmised easily. He was a lot less freaked out about this than he thought he might be. Sins of the father and all that.

He shrugged. "I try not to be. Usually it works. Sometimes the phrase 'blood will out' is applicable, but usually I get stopped in time. It's not easy, but I try."

Terry starred before shaking his head and considering his next words. "You and your dad don't get on, do you?"

"Oh no, my dad and I are cool," JJ shrugged. "My _father_ and I have both honestly tried to kill each other at least once though if that's what you meant. Dad's chill; he's one of the current Green Lanterns. Father's a psychopath that really ought to be put down for the good of the world, not to mention my own peace of mind. I got adopted after the Joker asked my mom to kill me for him and she actually went for it."

"If it makes you feel better, I electrocuted him to death in my timeline. Granted, it was kind of an accident and he was kind of already a ghost in Drake's systems, but I still killed him."

"Huh. Thanks. You're an okay guy."

"I like him," Red Hood agreed. "By the way, I'm Jason Todd and I was dead for over a year."

"Does that make you like a zombie or more like a vampire."

"I've been calling him a revenant because it sounds cooler, but he likes zombies better," JJ supplied.

* * *

"So is his name Batdog or Baddog?"

"Technically it's Ace, but I usually go with the second option."

"I like you. We're keeping him."

"The dog or me?"

"Both."

* * *

"Who designed your suit?" Tim asked.

"Bruce," Terry answered.

"Not Fantastic Mr. Fox?"

"Uh…"

"Lucius Fox. Works for Wayne Enterprises. Good man. Genius inventor."

"Never heard of him."

"Huh."

"I LOVE THIS SUIT!" Jalal shouted from the other room, delightedly. "There are so many toys!"

"Am I getting it back?"

"Eventually." "Probably." "Maybe." "Unlikely." Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian spoke at the same time.

The supertwins rolled their eyes. One of them shrugged and the other answered, "He'll probably just make you a new one."

Terry sighed. The Bat-Brothers were already super tight. He couldn't help but feel like an outsider most of the time. It didn't help that he sucked at stealth, which is what being a Bat was all about. Terry mostly coasted off of having better gizmos than the other guy and an unhealthily high pain tolerance. But seeing the Bat-Brothers in their prime (or just before, some of them were young yet) really made it sink home that he wasn't very… _skilled_. He was the oldest and somehow the least experienced. Which made no sense and totally sucked. Terry knew full well how he fit in here, which was to say not at all. It didn't help that each and every one of them was some sort of genius. Seriously, it just wasn't fair. How had Waller phrased it? He 'didn't quite inherit his father's magnificent brain'.

* * *

"You're lucky you know?" Tim told him randomly.

"How so?"

"You had a normal life for… over a decade."

"Nearly two."

"See? None of us had that. Leon was experimented on against his will and can barely remember a time before. Dick's parents were killed before he was ten. John is a clone bred for assassination. Rick is _also_ a clone bred for assassination but by a different group. Cass isn't a clone, but still with the assassination thing. Jason was homeless in _Gotham_. I- well, Jalal tricked the League of Shadows into assassinating my parents for him and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Steph's father was both abusive and a villain, plus the teen pregnancy thrown in there. Cam? Again with the villain parent thing and the abuse. Damian didn't _have_ a childhood because of that Bitch Talia and again with the assassination thing. Conner and Calvin aren't much better than John and Rick. And Jalal, well, you know who his parents are. Guess how well that turned out. I suppose there's Barbara though."

"It's a miracle you're all alive," Terry admitted. "It's a miracle _any_ of you are alive really."

"We got lucky and we know it," Tim nodded. "Plus by the time the BatClan heard about any of us we had a whole flock of angels watching over our shoulders. Otherwise most of us wouldn't have made it past our twelfth birthday. Well, some of us might but we would've been the kind of people we fight _against_ instead of who we are now. Especially Jalal."

"I'm sorry." And oh, did Terry mean it.

"You'd have helped if you'd been here, I'm sure," Tim assured him, patting him on the arm. "But that's the thing. You weren't. And that's a _good_ thing. You had a normal life. Any one of us would have wanted that for each other and ourselves. You got it. You're lucky. We're _happy_ for you. You should be happy too."

And Terry couldn't stop the words from falling out of his mouth like a confessional. "I'm an idiot. I'm not a genius. I fight more like a brawler than a Bat or even a Bird."

"So be something different," Tim shrugged easily. "Batgirl and Robin are different. Most of us ex-Robins are different now too. Leon's decidedly flightless compared to the rest of us and that doesn't stop him. The supertwins are still family and they don't match to begin with. You can't fit into anyone's old suit the same way, fine, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve one."

"So you'll just make me a new identity, just like that?" Terry asked. "I mean, I get that I can't really be Batman anymore because _young_ Bruce has dibs (and that will never stop being weird) but…"

Tim smiled, understanding his reluctance perhaps better than the others would have. The jump between Robin and Red Robin hadn't been all that large as he recalled. "It worked for most of us so why not? And becoming Red Robin was one of the proudest moments of my life. We'll figure something out for you. Don't you worry. We can ask Jalal."

* * *

They should not have asked Jalal. A certain gleam entered his eyes that hadn't been there before when the topic was mentioned. Terry was rightfully afraid and Tim shuddered at the memory of those poor mice and what had happened last time Jalal got that look. "I got this. I'm gonna go to the labs now."

"… I think I should worry."

"Help me warn the others and whatever you do, _stay away from the labs_. There probably isn't anything he's working with you can be contaminated by this time because it's tech and not chemicals, but with Jalal there's no knowing and better to be safe than sorry. I don't want to end up like those mice."

"What happened to the mice?"

"What _didn't_ happen to the mice?"

"I don't want to know, do I?"

"You really, really don't."

"Would it help to recruit Alfred?"

"It will _always_ help to have Alfred on our side. Otherwise he won't eat until he's done and no one else is brave enough to try except Jason."

"So why not send Jason?"

"Then they won't get any work done and the danger will just last longer."

"I'll warn the triplets."

"I've got the both sets of twins plus Jason."

"Who's telling Bruce?"

"…It's always better Bruce doesn't know. Who's telling Hal?"

"He seems reasonable."

Tim locked on like a shark to blood, sensing foolish ignorance. Hal was scary about his son and apprentice. Scary. "You tell him then. I'll tell Barry and Iris."

"Deal." Oh, Terry, that was a bad deal.

* * *

"You took me on a robbery!" Terry accused.

"Not technically," Jalal dismissed.

"Yes technically! I'm telling Bruce!"

"Yeah, well, it's his building. It's sort of mine by association."

"Why didn't you just ask him for it then?" Terry demanded, "And what did we steal anyway?"

"He'd have said no, and they're parts for your suit. Of _course_, I made you come."

"You know it'll be in the news tomorrow, right?"

"Nah."

* * *

"You were in the news," Bruce announced, dropping a newspaper onto Jalal's workbench. "Again. And you dragged Terry into it."

"Terry came of his own free will."

"Did he know it was a robbery?"

"He knew it was with me, isn't that enough of a warning really?"

* * *

Bruce Wayne thought it was a good idea to introduce JJ and Lucius Fox. He was right. In the end. Not so much at first. The immediate repercussions were… dramatic to say the least.

Seeing as Mr. Lucius Fox did not know he was about to be introduced to the son of the most insane (and insanely dangerous) man in Gotham, it was deemed simplest to instead escort JJ to Mr. Fox's lab. Looking back, Bruce still wasn't sure if this was a good idea or not.

"Hi!" JJ popped up in front of Mr. Fox's desk, hopping slightly to be seen properly. He was still very young and short for his age on top of that. (Malnourishment took its toll back then, before he was willing to accept food from the others.) Lucius

Lucius Fox actually had heart palpitations and went to the hospital to get them treated. He was fine. JJ felt horrible.

* * *

"Letter from your grandkid, Mr. Fox," the mailroom guy said. Fox had never _quite_ remembered the guy's name. Mentally, he was dubbed ever so creatively as 'Mail Guy'. This from the same man who named the Batmobile, Batcomputer, Batsuit, Batplane, Batarangs, Batcycle… you get the picture. Fox was a genius. That didn't make him good at naming things or people. "It's kinda thick."

"Huh?" Fox, to his knowledge, didn't have grandkids. Heck, he didn't even have children or anyone to have children with, much less actual grandkids.

Mail Guy handed him the envelope. It was addressed to him… in green crayon. Fox didn't really associate with anyone who used crayons. Not because he was snooty or anything, mostly it was just that… he basically lived through his computer. Using writing utensils of any kind was less common and crayons certainly couldn't be used to draw accurate schematics. (He assumed. Nobody ever really _tried_ that sort of thing.)

"Oh, uh, thank you," Fox nodded as Mail Guy continued on with his cart to his next delivery.

"See you tomorrow Mr. Fox!"

"Bye," Fox nodded. He opened the envelope.

* * *

"This is genius. It's written in nearly illegible gibberish using at least four different shades of green crayon and some smatterings of partially smeared glitter-glue, granted. But it's genius! Someone get this kid a computer and make him type so I can read his damn writing!"

* * *

JJ was given a computer. JJ liked languages. Computer languages included. JJ learned to hack. He was very, scary good.

* * *

Later he would offer to trade his technological skills for Robin's fighting skills. Dick Grayson would agree, wanting that skill. Much like JJ's introduction to Mr. Fox, this would have near-disastrous first results and in the long run turned out to be very, very good for nearly everyone involved.


	23. Stephanie Brown

"You, blonde girl, what's your name?" Jalal asked.

"Stephanie Brown," she reported.

"I like her, can we keep her? Please, Huntbird? She's sassy. And bright. Like, forged through darkness bright. Villain kid bright. If you won't recruit her, I will."

Rick Grayson, AKA Flamebird, the clone of the original Dick Grayson created by Luthor Corp. to serve the Light under the guidance of Deathstroke, looked at Jalal, AKA Bluejay, the caped crusader and frowned. "I doubt she wants to be kidnapped by Bat people right after being kidnapped by aliens."

"Technically, we're _bird_ people, and we're _better_ than aliens," Jalal offered a winning smile, forgetting he was still wearing his helmet and no one could see.

"I think that's racist," Stephanie piped up. "Granted, these aliens have no noses, so they're clearly related to Voldemort. Plus they're evil. You're definitely better than _these_ aliens, I'll give you that much but that doesn't give you the right to discriminate against all aliens everywhere."

"_Now_ do you see why we must keep her?" Jalal insisted.

"We aren't adopting another bird _or_ bat while the big guy's out, Bluejay," Renegade ordered, "and that's final."

"Fifty bucks say I change your mind when you see her fight."

"You're on."

* * *

The blonde girl stole Jalal's blaster right off his belt and opened fire. Jalal didn't even Blink as blue lasers started going everywhere and hitting those noseless-alien goons with nearly perfect accuracy. He had more guns than hands anyway. When she ran out he seamlessly tossed her a fresh battery clip and she locked it into place.

"I'm impressed," Rick admitted, glancing at the blonde Jalal wanted to recruit. He'd forgotten her name but those skills would be easily polished into- oh drat, he'd already caved hadn't he? Rick scowled at the sky, "I need to stop betting against Jalal."

"Damn straight you should," Dick agreed. "It's nearly Cass's adoption day. Guess who's getting a new apprentice?"

"Now that's a bet I won't take."

* * *

"So are you going to keep it?"

Steph spat out her drink - fortunately not on him. "How did you know about that?!" she demanded frantically, lunging at Jalal and grabbing his wrists, eyes wide and suddenly wild.

Anyone with common sense would fear a frantic member of the Batclan, but Jalal never claimed to have any form of sense and he was in no way common. "I can see the lights," the younger boy shrugged carelessly, not minding his tightly pinned wrists other than to note that the bruises would probably heal before he saw his Jaybird anyway so he needn't bother hiding them. "I know what white means." He glanced pointedly at her stomach.

"Oh. Well," Steph, rather unlike herself in her nerves, tucked her hair behind her ear and stroked it into place. "I- you asked a question."

"Yeah, are you going to keep it?" Jalal repeated, not sure if she remembered in her sudden panic.

"... I don't know yet…" Steph admitted. "I… can you tell if… if it's a person yet?"

Jalal shrugged. "Depends on your definition. Do you count eggs as meat?"

"Of course not."

"Then no. It's still a little person-egg. A maybe-person. A might-be, could-be sort of thing. It's roughly as alive as a plant and you kill those all the time so don't let that sway your decision. It's not a person _yet_. It's up to _you_ to decide if it _will_ be."

"I- I'm not sure yet," Steph admitted.

Jalal nodded as if he'd expected that answer and Steph figured he probably had. He unpinned his wrists and moved them both to the couch, locking the door to his lab so no one would come in. It was hardly suspicious, Jalal did that all the time. "So what are your options?" he prompted, answering himself for her benefit. "One: Don't have the baby. Two: Have the baby and give it up for adoption. Three: Have the baby and let a friend/family member raise said baby. Four: Have the baby and keep them for yourself. I guess you theoretically could have the baby and then kill it but at that point it's infanticide and I won't support you for that one."

"Scratch that last," Steph offered a weak smile, accepting Jalal's weak attempt at humor for what it was: him trying to make her feel better and communicating via his usual violent understanding of the world.

"Do you want to raise it?" Jalal prompted.

"I don't think I'd be a very good mom." Steph looked down. "I went and got knocked up at this age and-"

"Hush," Jalal dismissed, "You can't possibly be a worse parent then mine and I turned out pretty okay. If that's the route you decide to take, you _will_ have support. Do you _want_ to?"

"I… I'm not… I'm so young."

"Yes you are. You're also still in school. And unmarried. And one of the kindest, most caring, compassionate, loving and affectionate people I know. And Frozone was basically a mom to me, Archer and Sylvester before she was fourteen. You are young, yes, but you've never let that stop you from being Spoiler or Batgirl and that shouldn't matter now. So. _Do you want to keep your baby?_"

"I- I think… I'm not- … I need to talk to Tim, don't I?"

"Well," Jalal considered. "You don't _have_ to. If you wanted, I could help you abort it safely right here right now without even leaving the lab. I'd never tell and you wouldn't need to either. You have _choices_ here, the question is which choices will you make."

"I _want_ to talk to Tim," Steph decided, somewhat breathlessly. "I want his say on this."

"Then go and talk to Redbird. Get his say. But ultimately, it's your decision, your body and your kid before anything else."

Steph tilted her head. "If I asked, what would your opinion be?"

"Me?" Jalal blinked, not having thought about it. He considered. "I… my mother chose not to abort me only because she thought my father _might_ want an heir. He most certainly _didn't_. I was unwanted and that made me pretty miserable. Only turned out okay once people started _wanting_ me. So I guess I'm saying… If you want it, keep it. If you won't love it though, don't. It is kinder not to live than to live without love. I think you got more than enough love. Question is if you're willing to use it right. That's another choice."

"Thanks, Jalal. You're pretty deep sometimes."

"Always. I just hide it in crazy."

* * *

Steph and Tim kept the baby. Her name was Jessica. She had her father's blue eyes and her mother's blonde hair. Tim's nose and Steph's jaw.

Jalal was named godfather and he sobbed for hours about it. It took an hour for him to get up the courage to hold her and it took a dirty diaper to convince him to stop and give her back.


	24. Collecting Family

The original plan had been simple. Thank him and go home. Nothing more involved than that. Jalal honestly hadn't planned for… this. Whatever this was. Or should this count as a whoever? _Whom_ever? Fuck if Jalal knew any more and he only barely cared about the semantics, to begin with, and certainly not at all after a day like this. This was out of his hands and over his head. But that was okay. In the end, they would all be better for it. Jalal knew that somehow, this was better than the alternative. So much better than it could have been.

* * *

"Thank you," Jalal told Ra's Al Ghul.

He looked better. He was still pale and skinny, but his eyes were alive now and his hair wasn't greasy and plastered to his skull. There was no dried blood or ever-flowing tears. The young man's smile was nothing like his father's, far too open and honest to compare. The boy was happy.

"I was merely fixing my mistake," Ra's Al Ghul corrected clearly. "I consider it my duty as a gentleman."

Jalal chuckled lightly but earnestly. "There aren't exactly very many gentlemen where I come from, so thank you all the same. My Jaybird means everything to me."

"I am sure you will find some way to repay me," the elder (old, very old) man promised.

Jalal met his eyes head on. "That would, of course, depend on a bunch of factors. You are greedy and trying to use me, but I don't think it'll be a problem. You're just taking advantage of a favorable situation. It's perfectly understandable. So what is it you think I can do for you?"

* * *

And that was hour Jay began a tour of the League of Shadows facilities and members, checking for traitors. He was surprised at the trust Ra's had chosen to place in him.

"Are you sure you want to ask this of me," Jalal asked. "I mean I could lie to you. I could be picking off your best guys or something."

"You won't," Ra's replied evenly. It wasn't a threat, though it could have sounded like one. It was simply a true statement. Jalal wouldn't lie to him. The truth was better. He was right. So Jalal searched to the farthest extent he was capable of.

This was why Jalal found himself staring, completely dumbfounded, by what appeared to Ra's to be a blank patch of wall. It was not very interesting. He allowed himself to wonder exactly how sane the Joker's son could possibly be and just how much faith he should be putting into his evaluations.

"What the ever loving fuck?" Jalal asked the wall. It did not answer. He turned to Ra's, "Did you know about this?"

"Know what?"

"No, of course not," Jalal dismissed, muttering to himself. "You're not fucking crazy. _This_ is fucking crazy. Super crazy. Like, I honestly haven't seen anything this crazy since the supers and the cloning and the murderclones crazy." Jalal's scowl took up his entire face. "It isn't him, which is good, but it is, which is weird. Which probably means something because I've seen this before but not like this and not with _him_. Do you have any idea what's in there?"

"A wall," Ra's suggested dryly.

Jalal had not previously known that Ra's Al Ghul was a dumbass. "Walls don't have life-forces with auras that read to match _the_ Bossy B's except not because it's young and too old for itself and seriously _what the fuck_ is behind this wall?!"

Ra's frowned. "There's nothing there," he said.

"Yes, there _is_," Jalal corrected belligerently. "I can _see_ there is. No keeping it from me now."

"No," Ra's al Ghul corrected, "I mean to say that I don't know of anything that could be there."

Jalal stopped and turned his gaze towards the leader of the League of Assassins properly. The man wasn't lying. "Shit man," he realized. "Someone's keeping secrets from you. And whatever this is… it's kinda a big deal. This is kinda like Jumper and Flyboy or Owlet and Huntbird happening all over again except with Bossy B! It's big!"

"What _exactly_ are you trying to imply here?" Ra's demanded impatiently.

"There's a mini-bat-cub on the other side of this wall. And Bossy B doesn't know about it either."

* * *

"Bitch! Imma kill you!" Jalal threatened, holding a knife to Talia's throat and glowering darkly.

Jason caught his wrist quickly. "_Jayblue._ C'mon, restraint, remember? You're supposed to use it. We're not allowed to kill people without permission from-"

"The bitch made a Baby-Bat. Without B's knowledge." Jalal insisted bitterly. "Bitch made a Baby-Bat brother and he's all angsty and depressing and annoying now because she got to him first!"

Jason had his gun out and pressed to the woman's forehead in a second. "Bitch start talking," he ordered darkly.

No one hurt their brothers without bringing down the wrath of the entire BatClan. Whether they had known about this brother beforehand or not didn't matter. He was here now and this Bitch had hurt him, which was completely and utterly unacceptable. The BatClan was a terrifying force to unleash.

* * *

"Bruce. Something has happened that I need you to take very seriously," Jalal instructed firmly. "And I need you not to panic about it. Because this is not your fault. Or my fault, I might add. This is not something that needs panicking about."

"Jalal, I understand," Batman insisted. "Please continue."

"No, Bruce," the young man insisted, "you really don't. You think you do but you don't."

"Jalal, just tell me what happened."

"Remember those lost ten hours? This would have only taken a few minutes. And, well, there are some pretty serious consequences."

"Jalal, please just tell me before I have to ask Jason because we both know that won't end well."

"Tim is no longer your youngest. Talia stole your bio-materials and made a baby which she then accelerated the growth of and trained as an assassin. His name is Damian, he's adorable and cranky, and we're keeping him."

"…"

"Oh my god. I think I just broke _the Batman_," Jalal realized. "Is this good or bad?"

* * *

"Yeah, no," Jalal shook his head, handing the weapon back with a little more force than he meant to, "swords aren't my thing."

"Why not?" Damian demanded angrily. But he was always angry and he didn't try to hand the blade back so Jalal saw it for the reasonably polite acceptance that it was, coming from Damian anyway.

"I have a tendency to like blades a little too much," Jalal admitted, scratching the back of his head. "It's… bad."

Damian tilted his head slightly in a birdlike fashion and focused his eyes in the way he did when he was confused. Jalal thought that he looked kind of like a curious hawk only cuter and marginally less predatory. "How is that a bad thing?"

"Because you can't just go around killing people," Jalal said simply.

"Why not?"

Jalal hesitated. "…I am very much so the wrong person to handle this question."

"I'll go ask Todd then," Damian decided.

"He's also the wrong person," Jalal cut him off before he could go in search. "Try Dickiebird. Or your Daddybats. I'd suggest Redbird, but he's a little too young."

"Why can't you explain?" Damian asked. On anyone else his age, his tone would qualify as a pout or a complaint but Damian carried himself in such a way that it became more of a disparity at the injustices of the effort the incompetent world necessitated him to expend. He was a complicated kid.

"Because _I_ don't understand," Jalal admitted. "I can't explain what I don't understand. You need to ask someone saner than me." But he was willing to try anyway, for the kid. "Killing, Damian is so very, terribly easy. But living with killing… that is not. There was a time in my life when I always felt the ghost sensation of tears on my face, for myself and for everyone else, and even when I'd run dry they were still there. Sometimes I wake up and wonder if I'll be covered in blood. Then I wonder if it'll be mine or someone else's. I never know which option I'm hoping for. Because killing is not easy. It's hard because it's so simple. A flick of a wrist, pull a trigger. People are so fragile, Damian. So very breakable. Breaking things is easy. I've been doing that since I was a kid, so-so-so much too young. But building things? That's hard. Take the hard route. It's easier."

Damian pulled his head tilting squint again, this time slightly less dignified under the weight of his irritation. "Why is the more difficult route easier?" He complained, "You're not making any sense."

"I told you to ask someone else," Jalal dismissed, waving him off. "That was me trying. Go nag Dickiebird. He's better at this morality bullshit."

"So it's because of the morality bullshit?" Damian confirmed.

"_Exactly!_"

* * *

"No, Titus," Damian ordered his dog grudgingly, calling him back. "We can't kill people because of morality bullshit. Heel."

Dick stared at him for a second, not sure whether to laugh, smile fondly or worry. "You've been spending too much time with Jay and Jason, haven't you?" he asked, "They're rubbing off on you and it's starting to show."

"_Ttt._" The current Robin wouldn't meet his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, Grayson."

"Uh-huh." Dick deadpanned. "You know I know you're lying. We all know you're lying. You're not fooling anyone. You're not even fooling yourself."

* * *

"Damian?"

"What is it, Jalal?" And oh how it burned at Damian that he didn't have a surname he could use to establish distance against this.

"Here."

Damian accepted the package reluctantly, not bothering to fight against Jalal when he had that look on his face and instead choosing to rip it open obediently. "Why would I want a book with blank pages?" he demanded sarcastically.

"You're not flowing right. Most people, they do it by talking. Some people are for actions and that's fine. You though… you're not really either. You gotta get that gunk out or it'll build up and you'll explode into a ball of angst – worse than you naturally are. Which is terrifying to even contemplate. So get it out on paper. You can do that, right? I think the phrase is 'bottle it up'. You shouldn't do that. Makes your lights murky. So take the book and use it."

"What… _exactly_ is it you expect me to use this book _for_?" Damian drawled. The thought occurred to him again that Jalal was clinically, diagnosable and in all other ways insane, but he actively reminded himself that the older boy at least meant well and that there was usually a meaning under all the madness. Deep down.

"Hell if I know. Fill it. Burn it. Wad it up into balls page by page and wedge it up Flutter's nose. Whatever works for you. That last one would be especially weird and that second one somewhat concerning, but to each his own."

If it had been anyone other than Jalal, Damian would have used to book as a blunt weapon or maybe even gone then for the carotid artery with the sharper corner, just to see if he could pull it off. But Damian _owed_ Jalal and respected him as much as he was able to because of that fact.

"Alright," he groused, still having no idea what he was going to do with the stupid book.

* * *

In Damian's room, near the window seat, he kept a book. The book had long since become a shelf, which then had expanded into its own bookshelf, filling up the recessed area of the window seat on both sides. All the pages were full.

Damian drew.

"Tch."

"Don't you tch me."

"Tch."

"Tch yourself."

"...Tch."

"God damn it, Damian. Stop tch-ing people like a little shit and be helpful."

* * *

It took Jalal approximately two seconds to decide that they were _keeping_ Bartolommeo 'Impulse' Allen. It was not a difficult decision. The boy's smiles were all the worst sort of lies and his aura _screamed_ with love-me, keep-me, save-me, and most damningly I-carry-the-weight-of-the-world-on-my-shoulders. It was unacceptable and needed correcting in the worst way. The boy needed a hero, and that's what they were, conveniently enough.

"We're keeping him," Jalal tells Jason.

Jason doesn't disagree. He actually accepts it easily enough. Somehow, he'd gotten used to his family's habit of picking up strays and accepting responsibility for strangers. It was their own special brand of almost-normal. "Okay," he says. "Why?"

"Because he's like me," Jalal said simply, seeing the truth of his own words in Bart Allen's eyes. "Like I used to be. In far too many ways."

Jason's countenance changed from acceptance to determination. "We're definitely keeping him."

* * *

One second Bart was standing up – with every intention of running to the kitchen and taking advantage of _free food_ – and the next he'd been snagged by the back of his cloths, hoisted up and was being carried fireman style on Jalal's shoulders. It was better than princess style. It was still weird.

"Whoa! Hey, Triple J! Whassup? And more importantly, why and I being kidnapped and dragged back to your totally non-evil lair of science?" Bart took it well. "Hi, RH!"

Red Hood gave Impulse a head tilt that may have meant 'don't struggle – it'll hurt more if you do' or possibly 'don't worry, we only want to talk to you' and might even have simply meant 'hello to you too'. Bart wasn't sure which. The helmet made it very hard to tell and he didn't know the man under it all that well. He also wasn't sure if he wanted to know what he meant and didn't think too hard about it. Fortunately, he was set down gently(-ish) on the couch (usually designated for Jalal after he'd pulled consecutive all-nighters on one project or another) and given a high-energy bar. Despite being kidnapped by the two probably sketchiest members of the team, Bart found he had very little reason to complain. Because there was _free food_. That would never be bad news.

Jalal pulled up one of the overly uncomfortable metal stools to face Bart and stared him in the face with an uncomfortable level of scrutiny. "Your time machine is based off the schematics I made when I watched Back to the Future too many times and got pissed that people thought bullshit like a 'flux capacitor' would be safe enough to get anyone anywhere ever. So essentially, I know _exactly_ what it does. You should too since you perfected it and actually made the damn thing _work_ successfully." Jalal stated. "In other words… you _knew _it was only one way when you used it. You knew you were never going home. You didn't plan to, and furthermore, you didn't _want_ to."

Impulse said nothing. He didn't make a joke or deflect or deny. It was the same as admitting the truth really, though he didn't dare say it.

"On your first day here you saved Fwoosh's life. You had the perfect medicine for Jimmy Neutron already prepared – don't think I didn't see that. You saved all of Central City from destruction, as well as your grandfather's life. You crashed the mode – and yes, I learned Crolotean and know their term for it. You came back in time to _exactly this date_," Jalal emphasized. "It wasn't a coincidence. You're also a bad liar. A good actor, sure I'll give you that one. But a bad liar. I saw through you without even using my eyes – you have heard of my eyes, right?"

Bart nodded but otherwise didn't answer.

"You look and act like a survivor: a scavenger, not a slayer," Jalal continued. "You check for exits and threats when you walk into a room faster than most people can blink. You always keep your back to a wall and within reach of an escape rout. You look at free food like it's the ambrosia of the gods."

Bart held his silence.

"The future is a dark place," the young Green Lantern concluded with an air of dark certainty. "There's no Justice League – they'd never allow a speedster of Fwoosh's line to starve. And no Young Justice either – you'd be one of ours already and therefore that suit would be my design. There's no Barry Allen as Flash. There's no safe zone – not that you've been to. And judging by your reactions, speech quirks, and paranoia, I'd say the Reach has succeeded in taking over the world when you're from, hmm?"

The boy refused to respond.

"So the real question then," Red Hood announced, "is whether or not you'll accept our help willingly."

"I can't tell you," Bart argued weakly.

"Bullshit you can't," Jalal looked affronted. "You can't possibly expect to do this _alone!_ You can't tell the entire League, sure. I'll agree with you on that. Them finding out could be bad, especially with so many big heads and small brains over there. And telling the entire Young Justice is basically the same as telling the League because some of us aren't so secretive and slightly over-loyal. But you can tell _us_. And you need to tell _someone_. No one is strong enough to do this alone. Not even an Allen."

Bart tried to interrupt but Jalal just held up a hand and continued on over his small (weak, reluctant) protests. Bart's colors flared with orange-blue-indigo with longing. Jalal knew.

"The time you came from has already been unmade by your very presence here," he stated firmly. "In order to _change_ the future and not just create a parallel dimension, you need to stay _and_ integrate with this time to an extent that you no longer require a loop – your younger future-self going back to now to repeat your same actions you're making _now_ in the present, which is your no-longer-current-past. This present no longer leads to your future because you're in it and your future self will never need to come back to now. If you had gone back, the changes you made would already have been in effect, or have created a parallel dimension that wouldn't affect your timeline at all. In other words: you need to trust us and let us trust you. The more changes you make the better. With any luck, the future will become unrecognizable to you and you'll be an old man by the time it gets here. Alright?"

Bart stared at him. He was smart, but an expert on time travel and parallel dimensions he was not. After building the time machine based off of plans which, apparently, had originally ben designed by the Bluejay himself (which was _so crash_ by the way!), he had a passable understanding sufficient to understand what Jalal had just said since he didn't speak in geek. He was right. Bart's colors flared bright blue-green-violet in gratitude and relief. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Thank us when it's over, kid," Jason said. "Until then, we've got the world to save. Don't tell your gramps though, he's the worst chatterbox in the League."

"I like him," Jalal defended.

"Of course you do," Jason argued. "He's your pops. You have to like him. I actually like him too. Doesn't mean he's not a chatterbox."

"... Granted."

Bart wondered if these were really the right people to be trusting with the fate of the world. Then he figured that they couldn't be any worse than he was alone. "The first thing we've got to do, is save Blue Beetle."

"Sure thing. Do you mean Azure or Azul?"

"Huh?"

* * *

Bruce walked into the kitchen and instantly distrusted Jalal's contemplative expression. He had every reason to. "Jalal, what are you thinking?" he asked, carefully keeping his suspicion and… _concern_ out of his tone.

"I want an apprentice," Jalal mused, chin propped up on top of his fists over the counter. "I think it's a good idea."

Bruce wondered if this is what a heart attack felt like. His first instinct was to tell Jalal that no, a mini-Jalal running around would be a _horrible_ idea and enough things got blown up in this house already and hadn't he already brought home enough kids by now?! Instead he settled for, "I am significantly less convinced that this is a good idea. In fact, I disagree. You're still settling into your role as a Green Lantern and-"

"But if I'm Green Lantern, then who's Bluejay?" Jalal interrupted. "And Bluejay only _just_ returned. I don't want him to just disappear. Again."

"You _are_ Bluejay."

"I _was_. Now we need a new one."

"No, no, this is a bad idea."

"This is a _great_ idea. I would be an awesome mentor."

"I'm not letting it go."

"You are not going out on the streets of Gotham, kidnapping a random child and sticking him in a suit."

"Of course not. I'm going to _train_ them first. And don't just assume that it's going to be another black haired blue eyed boy of approximately nine to twelve years of age. That's _your_ apprentice profile. I want someone more… snarky."

Bruce thought that his each and every protege was more than snarky enough already and felt a headache forming at the very thought of someone worse. "Jalal, please, this is a bad idea."

"Nah. I'm sure it'll work out. I'll check with you first if you want."

"...Fine."

* * *

Jalal's day was pretty typical. So it wasn't too big a change to go from gliding over the rooftops (he still preferred to use a grapple than flight sometimes, but not today, today he was Green Lantern not Bluejay) to kicking the shit out of some wannabe gang-banger bullies. Thugs were low level assholes, but he had time and the person they were beating on was just a little kid. It looked like they'd cut off most of the kid's hair. Huh. That was new but not overly original.

"Are you alright, little one?" Jalal asked, bending down. "They weren't very nice, were they? Any major injuries or do you want me to walk you home?"

The kid looked up at him. Shit, he was just a little fellah, wasn't he? "I'm sorry, you can go. I'm okay."

Jalal frowned. Now that just wouldn't do. He stood up and took the kid's hand. "C'mon kiddo, I'm walking you home."

"N-no! Y-you don't hav'ta! Ah'm j-just-!" the kid protested.

"Little one, you're not 'just' anything," Jalal corrected, glancing at the kid's colors. Hey, they were pretty bright for someone so young. "You're brave, and compassionate and stronger than you realize. You're heart's got enough love in it that it's fit to burst. Somewhere in this city is someone who loves you back and wants you home this late after dark. Now which way do I go to return you to them?"

The boy mumbled out an address.

Jalal grinned, sweeping up the kid princess style. "Homeward bound we go!" and he flew.

* * *

Cullen Row was terrified, but also having the time of his life. He wasn't sure which was more prominent. On the plus side, he wasn't getting beat up anymore. On the negative side, he could be dropped at any moment if the Green Lantern found out he was gay. But he was being carried princess style by Green Lantern, the young hot one even! But his sister Harper was going to find out what happened. But he wasn't lost anymore. But he was going to be in trouble. But he was _flying!_ But- oh my god, Harper just tried to brain the Green Lantern with a broom!

The Lantern looked mildly miffed but mostly surprised about it. "You have a very good swing, but too much anger interferes with your aim. Take a deep breath and try again," he instructed.

Cullen gaped, still being carried, now by one arm. _Huh?_ Harper did not choose to gape. She let out a roar of anger and swung again. The Green Lantern sighed, creating his own broom - naturally, glowing green - and deflecting easily.

"You have lots of heart, but very poor form," he lectured. "You won't get anywhere like that." He dodged. "Stop trying to use brute force you don't actually possess and aim for my weak points." He dodged again. "I'm stronger so you have to be smarter." Smiling the entire time, he caught the broom handle one-handed before allowing her to rip it out of his grasp and regain some distance between the two of them. "Also try being faster, if you think you can pull that off."

"If at first you don't succeed," Harper snarled, flicking her hair out of her face and charging with her broom as though it were a spear, aiming for his throat, "try try again!"

Her warcry was proven unsuccessful as Green Lantern stepped smoothly to the side. A new hole appeared in the wall. Cullen felt like facepalming. Harper clearly felt like killing someone (Green Lantern) with a broom up their ass all the way through their thick, moronic skull. Green Lantern was still smiling, apparently delighted by it all.

"That's not how it goes," he corrected, dodging a series of wild swings at his head and one abrupt one at his ankles which would have been a good move if she weren't telegraphing her attacks. "It's like this: If at first you don't succeed, try trampling the problem with a lawnmower or ten, then through a wood chipper, douse with gasoline, light with match, collect ashes, submerge in acid, dispose of acid in environmentally friendly ways and then try again and see if it's better." He nodded to himself briskly. "I'm sure I have some extra acid lying around if you need some."

Harper stared at him. Cullen stared at him. He beamed cheerily.

"Dude," Harper told him, lowering her broom probably due to sheer shock at the… _uniqueness_ of that statement, "that is not how the phrase goes."

"The definition of insanity is to use the same methods and expect a different result. I have no intention of 'try trying again'. Albert Einstein was a smart guy," Green Lantern maintained. "Besides, I think the phrase should be left open to interpretation."

Cullen couldn't help but think that the phrase Green Lantern had used was more like a very specific set of instructions than an interpretive option. Harper just snarled, "That's not how it works!"

"It's how _I_ work," he shrugged in response, "Speaking of, do you want your brother back or do you want to keep trying to hit me some more?"

"Hand him over or I'll-!" The Green Lantern quickly materialized some glowing green earmuffs over Cullen's ears, blocking out his sister's angry tirade. Cullen couldn't be sure since he couldn't hear at the time, but he was pretty sure he also told his sister off for swearing. This was a weird day for him. Harper was not pleased.

"You're insane," she eventually concluded.

"It's okay: I'm on medication. But ultimately, yes, yes I am," Green Lantern confessed. Cullen was pretty sure that was a bad thing. "Who wants ice cream? I know a place that's open all night! Actually, I know _all_ the places that are open all night. That happens when you're always out all night. Fun fact: superheroes are the most highly-functioning sleep-deprived people in the world."

* * *

"Yo, B?" Jalal asked over the coms.

"Yes, Green Lantern?" Jalal rolled his eyes. Leave it to B to never use names in the field.

"Remember that conversation a while back we had about me getting a new Bluejay and taking an apprentice?" Jalal grinned. Oh, he could just picture Batman's face right now. Completely stoic but with his jaw stiff in the corners in a way that suggested he wanted to freak the fuck out right then but couldn't because he was the goddamnbatman and the goddamnbatman didn't freak out ever. Jalal only barely resisted the urge to cackle maniacally.

"That was _yesterday_," Batman began, "and I said _maybe_ you could _think_ about it _if_ you found someone _appropriate_ and _checked_ with me. That was _not_ permission to go out and-"

"This is me running it by you. Literally. We've passed your position already and now we're en-route to the Batcave," Jalal cut him off. "I'm keeping her. She's brilliant and she'll work hard, I promise. Plus, her brother's a_dork_able and-"

"I have no real say in this anymore do I?" Bruce realized, barely remembering to use his Batman voice.

"No, I already asked Agent A's permission," Jalal assured him, "Everyone knows he's _really_ in charge. You're the figurehead, he's the rudder."

The Batman sighed. "That was a very nice analogy for my life, thank you Green Lantern. Batman out."

Jalal did laugh at that.

* * *

"Agent A, we get cookies to celebrate, right? And I can call in the whole BatClan?"

"Of course, Master Jalal. I dare say it's a tradition at this point."

"Yes!" Jalal cheered, throwing his fists in the air. "Lemme go call the others!" And he was gone before anyone could protest.

Internally Alfred sighed fondly. Jalal never really had quite adapted to using manners correctly, despite the best efforts on both their parts.

"Seeing as Master Jalal has neglected to introduce us, might I ask your names? Mine is Alfred Pennyworth. I am, among other things, the butler of this estate. Please call me Alfred." He gave a polite bow.

The two children stared for a moment, glanced at each other, then continued staring. Alfred was reminded of Jason's reaction upon realizing he was going to have a butler suddenly when he grew up not having a home half the time. He could draw whatever conclusions he wanted, but he would never judge them for it.

"I'm Harper, this is Cullen," the young lady announced defiantly, as if waiting for judgment.

It pulled at Alfred's heart that such young souls could be so hardened, especially his own charges (new though they may be - he knew they wouldn't be leaving anytime soon). "It's a delight to meet you young Mistress and Master." It was, it really was. "Would you care for a tour, or shall we hunt down Master Jalal?"

"Master Jalal?" young Master Cullen asked, peeking out from behind his sister, hair a complete mess of uneven hunks. (That would have to be rectified; he looked uncomfortable with it. A result of bullying perhaps?) "You mean Green Lantern?"

Alfred was to unruffled to be irritated. "Ah, so he failed to make his own introduction as well. I daren't hope that he managed to tell you why you've been spontaneously adopted, did he?"

Mistress Harper shrugged. "He seemed excited about me trying to hit him with a broom. Kept trying to take his head off and he kept telling me how to do it better. Then we got kidnapped, he took us for ice cream, then here. Weird guy. If we hadn't been kidnapped, I might actually like him."

A lesser man would have facepalmed. But this was Alfred. It was an open secret that Alfred was actually an angel in human form. "I take it explanations are in order then?"

* * *

Holy shit. Holy _shit_. Holy _fucking_ shit!

Green Lantern was _Bluejay_ was the _Joker's son_ was a _**good guy**_! And he wanted _Harper Row_ of all people in the _world_ as his _new_ Bluejay?! (Clearly, he was still crazy. And if the insanity wasn't gone by now it probably never would be.) And what about Cullen? There was no way under heaven, in hell or on earth that Harper would allow her baby brother in that sort of dangerous situation, fighting against villains and monsters. Never. He wasn't cut out for that sort of thing and it was her job to protect him. That's how this worked.

She needed to talk to this guy!

Unfortunately when Harper did find Jalal, he was quite happily pinned to a wall by a very large wall of muscle and black hair, legs wrapped around the other man's waist. (At least no one would judge Cullen for liking guys if this sort of thing happened in hallways often.) Eh, she'd seen worse. They still had their clothes on and everything. So she felt no shame in interrupting them.

"_You!_" she pointed. "If you think I'm letting my brother fight I'll kick your ass!"

The two men stopped making out. The new guy grinned roguishly. There was a white streak in his hair that suited him surprisingly well. "I see why you picked her," he chuckled. "She's kinda like you, except pricklier."

"Isn't she great?" Jalal beamed. "Anyway, Fledgling, your brother is way too little for the field. I'm not even going to let _you_ out for a few more months until you've got some real training under your belt and properly adjusted gear and even then you'll be under supervision for _ages_. I'm not just slapping a symbol on your chest like a target and throwing you into the streets to fight baddies. I'm your mentor. I take that seriously. And while it will be dangerous and sometimes you _will_ get hurt no matter how hard we both try - and I expect you to try _hard_ \- I'm going to do everything in my power to prevent those injuries from happening, and so will the rest of the BatClan. If, someday, your little brother wants to take up his own cape and step out then that'll be _his_ decision. Not mine and not yours either. And it'll terrify all of us the way it does every time one of our brothers and sisters grow old enough to make that decision for themselves. I'm not like anyone you've met before, Harper Row. I'm on your side."

Harper pointed her chin at him. "Hmph!" She spun and stalked away without a word. Jalal knew what she meant by it. 'We'll see if you break that promise. I don't have it in me to even hope for it just yet.' He grinned. "I think she'll be brilliant, don't you?" he turned to Jason. "She's still a little rough around the edges but aren't we all?"

"I think she'll be brilliant, don't you?" he turned back to Jason. "She's still a little rough around the edges but aren't we all?"

Jason grinned down at him. "I can't wait for them to meet the rest of the family. How's her brother?"

"A bit like Redbird was at first. But I get the feeling he's naturally shy and not just conditioned. We'll see once he comes out of his shell a bit more. I'm thinking of lending him to Oracle. She mentioned an assistant and her birthday is next week."

"You can't just give her a kid for her birthday or she'll freak, Jaybird."

"Psht. _Lending_, I'm _lending_ him to her. I want him back eventually."

* * *

Harper Row made a fantastic, albeit obviously female compared to the original, Bluejay. Jalal never quite got over how much he loved her hair with the outfit and how much he wished he could dye his hair _any_ color other than green. Cullen was exasperated, but happier than he had ever before been in his life. They called him Whisper on the comms whenever he helped Barbara. He never did choose to step out into the field directly, and everyone was completely okay with that. Especially Harper.

* * *

Years later, Jalal walked into the kitchen, smirked at Bruce and said, "And _you_ thought it was a bad idea," before walking out.

Bruce stared after him, coffee still in hand, baffled. "I was informed that I lacked veto rights. As far as I'm concerned, you now lack bragging rights. Now shut up and let me drink my coffee."

* * *

She was not a fool. Cameron 'Cam' Mahkent Jr, aka Icicle Jr, would be dead if she were a fool. Her father was a fool. He was cruel. He was not the sort of person she wanted to be named after.

Cam was also first in her generation of villains' children. Well, there was Jade but Jade didn't have a motherly bone in her body. Jade couldn't handle her own child (if she had one) much less others'. So somehow Cam is a mom. A _tween mom_ \- not even teen, oh no - to the most broken, abused, socially awkward children on the planet. Apollo, JJ, Leon (who was physically the same age but years younger in terms of experience), they were all her responsibility.

There was a Themysciran Embassy in Star City. She spent exactly one day there. And it changed her life. Cam did not instantly become a warrior woman or whatever. No. That would be saying far too much. But… she did see things differently. She saw how her father didn't take her seriously and still had massive expectations for her. That was when she changed from wishing she was good enough for her father to wishing that he would try and be better for her sake.

And when that didn't happen… she started to hate her father, despite herself. He made her life more difficult. He relocated her so that she didn't have easy access to her kids. (And they _were_ her kids because they were under _her_ protection.) He was the reason she had a criminal record and couldn't get a job. Heck, she couldn't even walk in daylight without someone trying to arrest her. So Cam hated her father. She had every right and she had every intention of exercising that right. Unfortunately though, it didn't stop her from being afraid of what her father could do to her.

"I've been a mother to these idiots since before I had my first period. Forgive me if I have no intention of allowing you to _attempt_ to change that now."


	25. Origin of Lian Harper-Nyugen-Kyle

**-Leon Kyle/TomCat POV-**

"So… are you the one to thank for Roy moving in next door?" I asked JJ, shooting him a grin as I chopped chicken on the cutting board. I was making chicken curry tonight.

"Slightly, maybe, a little bit, yeah, totally!" JJ agreed, nodding eagerly. "Did 'e make a good face?"

I didn't have the heart to tell him that Roy's reaction had been interrupted by JJ's alert coming in. "It was priceless," I assured him, "You should've seen it."

"That's nice." JJ's voice drifted out. He tilted his head to the side, watching me. I was used to JJ's space-outs and didn't mind him. I knew he wasn't actually paying any attention to me or anything I could say, even if his eyes were pointed in my direction. Sometimes JJ would come up with brilliant ideas when he spaced out, other times it just seemed a way to recollect his emotions and occasionally his brain would take him somewhere else entirely random. They never happened in combat situations, so we all decided not to worry too much but to keep an eye on it in case it progressed. "You really like him, doncha?" JJ asked suddenly, about five minutes later. "I didn' see it before, but it's right there. You're all grabby aroun' the edges when he shows up."

"You mean Roy?" I asked lightly, flicking my hair out of the way and glancing at JJ cautiously. "He's mine. He just doesn't know it yet."

"Well, yeah," JJ agreed, "But it goes both ways, right?"

_Oh hell no, kiddo, don't go there_. "No. It doesn't," I disagreed frankly. "Cats don't have owners, just staff. I do not belong to Roy Harper."

"Part of ya do," JJ insisted lightly. "You know it."

"Yeah, and he can have _that part_ whenever he wants." If it had been Robin or Wally they would've backed off. They got uncomfortable around heavy flirting or vague mentioning of anything sexual. JJ however, had been desensitized from that sort of thing rather young. So had I really but that was another thing.

"Well, that part too," he agreed amiably, pulling his knees to his chest and clasping them loosely with his arms, "but I meant cher heart."

"I am not in love with Roy Harper," I pointed out. "Love isn't my thing. I'm a cat. I don't even have lovers, I have either staff or fuck buddies. That's it."

"An' when's the last time you had one ah those?" JJ pressed. "They've been getting less n' less ever since you met him. You put on na same face and play it up but you hardly even go out any more 'ven on weekends. Ya changed."

_Well, that part was sort of maybe true. But_. "That's just because I started college. It's a lot of work. Takes up a lot of my time. Why should I waste it on a quick fuck with a stranger in an alley with most of my clothes still on when I have more important things to do."

"Never stopped you afore," JJ pointed out slyly, the little bugger. "Duchess used to have to drag you ta school to get you away from the hookers in Gotham."

"That was just a phase," I dismissed "I grew out of it."

"You're a cat," JJ affirmed, finally becoming serious about this. "You chose your mate."

"Cats are not a monogamous species. They're just the opposite really." Of course, I knew more about cats than most anyone else. It only made sense to do that sort of research when it's a large part of who you are on a literal, biological level.

JJ wasn't buying it. "There's more than _just_ cat DNA in you and you know it."

"Genetically speaking then he's an unsuitable mate. We can't have kids." If I kept this discussion scientific, I might be able to get this crazy idea out of JJ's head. Love and science do not align. "Offspring is the only genetic goal for mating."

"That isn't always in the cards for crossbreeds," JJ argued, "of which you're one. Ligers and donkeys and stuff still have sex. It wouldn't stop you from choosing him as your mate."

"Can't mate with someone without actually mating," I dismissed, dropping my stirring utensils and turning to face JJ properly. This wouldn't be as easy to brush off as I thought it would be. The kid was being stubborn. "I haven't even managed to get him to have sex with me, much less love me."

"So you admit you're trying to get him to love you," the little sneak insisted.

"I said no such thing," I denied frankly, "Don't put words in my mouth."

"Then let me stuff them into your thick skull," JJ offered forcefully. His grammar improved. He was taking this seriously. JJ _really_ meant what he said. "You can tell yourself I'm wrong, but you can't fool me. I can _see_. Your aura gets all grabby around the edges whenever he gets close. You're softer, fuzzier than you used to be. More purples. You don't want anyone else. You think about him when he's not there and you're defensive, protective and territorial over him. You don't want him near anyone else of a threatening age group. You chase people away from him at your school. You're always willing to help him, regardless of your reputation. You've been trying to win him over since the minute you met. Whenever you fight you either surrender, run or don't take it seriously because you don't want to hurt him. You have literally _changed parts of yourself_ to live up to his expectations, stealing less and giving more. You are in love with Roy Harper."

"I am not in love with Roy Harper," I whispered, back against the counter and leaning on it for support. _Geez, JJ really knows how to hit home, didn't he?_ I think my legs might have been trembling.

"Yes, you are."

"I'm _not_."

"..." For a second, part of me hoped he'd drop it but of course not. "Yes, Leon, you really are."

I shaky breath escaped me. "I don't even know how to feel love," I reminded JJ. "It's not something… I do, really."

"So… whatcha gonna do about it?" he asked, releasing his previous intensity and switching back to his normal goofy self.

"Same thing I've always been doing. Trying to seduce him," I shrugged weakly. It was damn hard to be so casual about this. I mean, I was always casual about it, but it was even harder now that I knew JJ could see how serious it _really_ was. I hadn't even (still haven't!) admitted how I felt about Roy in my head and now JJ had me admitting it out loud almost. It frightened me how much I was willing to do for Roy, and that red head idiot and his beautifully muscled arms didn't even know.

"And how's that working out for you so far?" JJ asked, not sarcastic in the least. It kind of threw most people that he could be asking something like that and mean it earnestly, but he did. JJ understood sarcasm perfectly well, he just applied it sporadically.

I shrugged again, feeling helpless and hating it. What kind of self-respecting nineteen year old asked for advice from someone eight years their junior? "He looks at me. I know he's admitted, at least to himself, that he swings both ways and that's progress. I'm pretty sure he'd grant me a favor or two if I asked so long as I was only stealing from someone who deserved it anyway and pulling a robin hood or something. Roy doesn't hate me anymore?" It was a pathetic offering and I knew it. So what if there were nearly un_bear_able levels of sexual tension between us? Roy would never act on them and I would never actually do anything Roy didn't want. _I'm such a sap_.

"So… try something else," JJ ordered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. _Arrogant little bastard, ain't he?_ "All you'll ever get out of that is Hoodie's lust. You want better than that so do something else."

"Yeah? Like what?" I seriously wasn't expecting an answer. I should have known better. JJ never did do things by halves.

"Well, you're a person right?" JJ asked, glancing at me for confirmation. I nodded and he continued. "There's other bits of you not part of your sex drive (though they're considerably smaller). Stop trying to seduce him and just be yourself."

"Why do you know about this shit?" I complained, "You're eleven!"

"Yeah, so?" JJ asked. "I c'n read people's auras. I know more about this shit than anyone else alive. I'm like Oprah on steroids here! Is she the match-makin' one? Is it Ellen? Dr. Phil? Dr. Oz? Fuck it. Doesn' matter." He shrugged. He was still an arrogant little bastard. "Imma magic love doc. So. Just don't do anythin' overly sexual without his permission is what I'm sayin'."

_He makes that sound so easy. No fair_. Obviously, there was no explaining the _needs_ that came with being a healthy teenage boy, especially one whose instincts were screaming at him to hurry up and take a mate while he was still in peak physical condition. My instincts wanted babies, for which sex was pretty much a prerequisite. It didn't help that Roy's body was like a temple of washboard abs and biceps and that jawline- which I wasn't thinking about right now when I was talking to JJ. The kid wasn't exactly innocent, but there was no way _I_ would have any hand in corrupting him any further than he already was.

"Your curry 's going to start burning if you don't stir it soon." JJ pointed out and I scrambled to salvage it.

"Dammit JJ! Tell me these things sooner!" It took me a while to even realize that he'd dropped the subject, at which point I decided to just be grateful and enjoy my baby cousin's company. He was an entertaining little shit when he wasn't interfering with other people's love lives.

* * *

**-Roy POV-**

Leon was sprawled out across my bed again when I got home. He was dressed in his civies, black t-shirt riding up slightly over his waist and his tail loose through the back of his jeans, barefoot and staring at me intently.

"Seriously?" I asked, promptly turning away. "I've had a really shitty day. I don't want to deal with you too." There wasn't an instant rebuttal. That alone threw me. Since when does he _not_ have a comeback? I glanced at him, pausing before stripping off my quiver and hanging up my bow. "You're awfully quiet today," I commented cautiously.

Leon just hummed lightly in response, eyes still tracking me.

_Okay, what the heck?_ Normally, that would've been where he would've said something about other things he could be doing with his mouth or about noises he could be making, etc., I practically walked right into that one by Leon's standards. I frowned at him. _Seriously, no response? No comment whatsoever?_ He didn't _look_ like he was sick or anything… I decided to test how bad this was before I freaked out. By taking off my armored vest and dropping it on the floor. Leon's ears perked up and his eyes focused slightly but that was it. I was shirtless and Leon hadn't tried to pounce me. Something was very wrong with this picture.

"Seriously, dude, are you sick or something? Normally you would've done something by now. You haven't violated my personal space since… all day actually. Not even on patrol, which you _always do_ so what the heck?"

Leon chuffed slightly before getting up off my bad and standing directly in front of me. He was looking me in the eyes. I'd always quietly thought that Leon's eyes had as many shades of gray and silver as the Centenary Diamond which he tried to steal the first time I met him.

"Leon?" I asked, uncertain.

He kissed me. We'd kissed lots of times. Or at least, Leon had kissed _me_ lots of times. I'd never kissed back and usually proceeded to try beating him black and blue every time he did. But he wasn't kissing me like he normally did. Leon's kisses were always about lust and heat and fire and felt like he was trying to swallow me up and overwhelm me all at the same time. But this was… timid. Hopeful. Tentative and gentle and _insecure_. Barely more than the touch of lips. And he pulled back on his own. I still hadn't kissed back.

"Leon, what's wrong?" I worried, "You're kind of freaking me out here. Are you sick or something?"

"Nothing's wrong, Roy," he dismissed, "I'm fine."

"Now that's a lie if I've ever heard one," I argued, "What happened?"

"Nothing happened," Leon assured me, "I just decided to stop trying to jump you all the time is all."

"So that was what," I wondered, "a goodbye kiss?"

Leon chuffed again and turned away. "I'm not going anywhere dumbass," he disagreed. "I'm just… not going to pressure you anymore."

"...You're giving up on me?" And why did that thought hurt so much? It's not like I _wanted_ Leon to keep throwing himself at me and every other thing with legs. It got on my nerves. But this was still a pretty major change in behavior and it kind of worried me. That's all it was.

"Oh, I didn't say that," Leon grinned, showing his canines and actually meaning it. "I just figured out that sexual harassment obviously isn't the best strategy. Anyway, we have classes tomorrow, right? I'll see you then."

And suddenly I was alone and my room was empty.

"Seriously though, what the fuck just happened?" I asked the now empty apartment. It did not answer.

* * *

**-Roy Harper/Red Arrow POV-**

"She was flirtin' with you," JJ pointed out. "She was _so_ flirtin' with you."

"No, she wasn't," I lied. "There's no way." Yeah. She was. I'll admit it. Just not to JJ. Ever. I would never live it down.

"Yeah, she was," he stated plainly. "Ya know she was. Gills, back me up 'ere. She was flirtin' with him, right?"

"I was not going to comment, but yes. I believe so," Kaldur confirmed. _That traitor_. "She was not discreet."

"I told yah so!" JJ shouted enthusiastically, hugging my arm. He'd been more clingy ever since I moved out with Ollie and he left his parents for good. I understood his reasoning though so I didn't mind really. The kid had every reason to be clingy. JJ seemed to realize something momentous. "Hoodie… you've gotta problem with cats."

"What?" I had no idea where that came from.

"First Sylvester an' now Whiskers! That's a disproportionate amount ah very interested cat-people fer one person," he observed, nodding wisely to himself.

I raised an eyebrow. "That's ridiculous," I dismissed. "Besides, Cheshire is a normal person with a cat mask. Not a real cat. It's different."

"Still a cat," JJ deadpanned.

"It _does_ strike me as odd, now that you point it out JJ," Kaldur agreed.

"What?! Don't take his side in this!" I complained. _They're all ganging up on me!_ "Why are we even discussing this? My love life is none of your business!"

"Ah-_ha!_ Ya used the word love!" JJ grinned victoriously. "Tha' means ya _do_ like Sylvester! You better watch yer ass though, cats are very territorial. They don't like to share, especially with each other."

"Yeah, well, they both just want what's in my pants," I dismissed. "I'm fine without that, thanks."

JJ looked at me funny. "If that were true in TomCat's case, he'd've given up literally _years_ ago."

The only real response I could come up with was to give him the noogie of his life. Kaldur just laughed. I was not in love with TomCat. Or Cheshire for that matter. At. All. Nor was I in denial. Anyone who said differently would wind up with an arrow in their ass.

"More importantly, did you guys hear what Sportsmaster said about the mole?" I said, half to change the subject and half because that sounded really, _really_ important. In a bad way. Much more important than my love life anyway. And not at all a distraction.

"Meh," JJ shrugged, apparently unimpressed. "He didn' say anythin' that _proved_ anythin', much less that would suggest he was for realsies. Supervillains gossip worse 'n a suburban housewife's book club convention. He's just messin' with ya'."

"Even so, we cannot afford to take that chance," Kaldur cautioned. "We must be vigilant."

JJ gave him a deadpan stare. "Dude. This is _so_ not worth it," he said frankly. "I trust each and every member of the team with my life _and_ the lives of my friends. I can read people's aura. Nobody I know is a traitor. Either I'm lying, and it's me, or Friday the 13th back there was just fucking with you."

"And if you're wrong?" Kaldur asked. He didn't know JJ well. Sure they were teammates, but they hadn't known each other long enough for him to understand that JJ just didn't get things like that wrong.

"Then they're using mind control or telepathy or micro-spies or something like that and knowing won't make any difference but freakin' people out," JJ decided firmly. _And isn't that a scary thought_. "Nobody is willingly or knowingly a spy. Or bein' blackmailed. I'm certain. What Friday the 13th said makes no difference. Inform Batman, tell him I vouch for the team, and let it drop. There's nothin' to be done and nothin' that needs doin' or investigating."

Kaldur turned it over in his head. There really was nothing we could do, one way or another. "Very well," he decided, "we do nothing. But I'm still informing Batman. We must remain vigilant."

I snorted in derision. "If you think for one second that Batman isn't _already_ looking at everyone like they're potential moles then you haven't known him very long. That guy is super crazy paranoid."

"Oi!" JJ protested, "As someone both crazy _an'_ paranoid: shutchyo face! It's only paranoia if they're _not_ out to get you!"

And we had to laugh at that.

* * *

**-Leon Kyle/TomCat POV- **

"So, how was our day?" I asked. Roy was in my apartment again. We basically traded off who made dinner/whose apartment we used since neither of us was particularly fond of cooking and we both knew there was a whole horde of people willing to break in and make themselves right at home if they decided we weren't eating right, my mom and JJ at the top of the list. Tonight was my turn to cook.

"It was fine. Ran into Cheshire again. Did you know JJ had met her before?" he asked curiously. "He called her 'Whiskers'."

"Yeah. She and her family lived here back… I don't know, I'm going to say six years ago? Something like that. Before I moved out to Star anyway. Don't know what happened to them after they left Gotham though. She used to babysit for JJ, you know? Think she was thirteen or something back then."

"Yeah, well she's not thirteen anymore," Roy said. I didn't like the way he said that. "She's all grown up now. And a supervillainess at that."

My eye twitched and I forced myself to keep cutting the potatoes, albeit with more vehemence than needed. I was a super villain too most of the time. I had absolutely no claim on Roy. If he wanted to _look_ at other people there was nothing I could do to stop him. I had no right. Besides… "You're okay though, right?" I confirmed, "Cheshire's parents were villains too. They probably taught her a bunch before she shipped out."

"Yeah I'm perfectly fine, pissed I had to defend Lex Luthor of all people, but fine." I tried not to let my relief show in the stiffness of my shoulders. "I had Aqualad and JJ as backup anyway. Cheshire was more interested in flirting than actually fighting or assassinating anyway."

"She flirted with you?" I'm not sure my irritation stayed out of my voice but apparently Roy didn't hear it because he kept talking, seemingly completely oblivious.

"Oh yeah," he agreed. "It was distracting. Cheshire was-" _Blah blah blah! I can't hear this!_ But I could. Roy just kept talking about her. My ears were twitching like crazy and my tail was positively lashing with irritation. I was _furious_ and Roy was _still_ talking about that - that _female_ who dared to touch _my Roy!_ It was _completely unacceptable!_ I couldn't help it.

Next thing I knew I had him up against the nearest wall, my tongue halfway down his throat and hands under his shirt, one leg between his knees. And _dammit_ but I wanted to stay there forever. It was _wonderful_ and- holy_shit_didhejust_KISSMEBACK?!_ I jerked back in surprise, realizing that I'd just jumped Roy again after having promised not to.

"I- uh, Roy, sorry. I just-"

"Damn I missed this," Roy murmured and kissed me again.

Oh. _Oh_. He did that on purpose. Well, far be it from me to complain. Because for once, I wasn't just kissing Roy. _Roy_ was kissing _me_. Which was even better. Way, way better.

* * *

**-Roy POV-**

Well, that plan worked. JJ wasn't kidding when he said that cats were territorial.

It was different kissing Leon back. I didn't feel overwhelmed. If anything, Leon submitted to my attentions, let me control the pace. I took my time, relishing the experience. I mean, we'd kissed before, sure, but never like _this_. Never because the both of us wanted to. Never with so much time on our hands. Then again, we did have to breathe eventually.

"I've always wanted to do that," I admitted.

"Why didn't you?" Leon asked, suddenly insecure.

"Didn't think you _actually_ cared," I admitted. "I mean, you obviously wanted _something_ from me, but I didn't realize you actually wanted me and not just my body."

Leon kissed me again, soft and gentle. "I don't want you in my bed just so you can leave again," he admitted. "And you?"

"I've wanted to kiss you again since the Centenary Diamond. I've wanted to keep you since you stole Wallis Simpson's Panther Bracelet."

Leon grinned. "I remember that. Madonna never wore it anyway."

"What did you do with it anyway?" I asked. "Sell it?"

"Nah, it was a mother's day gift," he grinned. "She loves it."

I laughed and buried my face in the crook of Leon's neck. It just felt _natural_ for him to be this close. "Stop standing so far away from me all the time okay?" I requested, "I hated feeling like you were out of reach."

"All you had to do was ask," Leon admitted.

"Well what took me so long?" I kissed him again before he could answer.

* * *

**-JJ POV-**

My phone rang. "Sup, Hoodie?"

"Not much, I -ah- Listen, JJ." _Oh. So that's it. _"Can you take someone and handle my patrol tonight? I'm -nnh- I've got to-"

"You've gotta go pound my cousin into the mattress. Gotchya. Have fun or whatever. Tell him I say hi, okay?" There was a brief pause before Hoodie elected to just hang up without saying anything. I pulled the phone away from my ear and grinned at it, staring at the darkened screen. "You're welcome, shitheads."

"Who's welcome?" Racer asked, wandering in and opening up a cupboard, pulling out a bag of chicken wizzies.

"Racer! Perfect! Will you help me take Hoodie's patrol tonight?" I requested.

"Uh, yeah, sure. I'll need to call my uncle but no problem. Why?" he asked.

"Hoodie just needs us to fill in for him because he's too busy finally having sex with Sylvester to go on patrol," I explained.

"Oh okay. Wait- _what?_" Racer realized what I just said. "Really? Ew. I mean, good for them, but still, too much information, you know? Anyway, yeah, I'll talk to Uncle Barry and get permission. I'm technically off tonight anyway, but I'd rather he know where I am, you know?"

"Yeah," I agreed automatically despite suddenly feeling wooden, "Sure."

"Cool, see you tonight," he said, leaving the kitchen burdened with multiple bags of snack food.

I huffed out a breath, staring morosely at the phone. I _didn't_ know what it was like to check in with a responsible adult before going out to do something. I'd never exactly… had one. I mean, my biological donors didn't exactly give half a shit about me. Half the time they were both in jail and I was completely unsupervised on the streets of Gotham, which wasn't exactly a great place to be. Sure, I stayed over with Dutches or Bossy B or Racer's family on occasion, but mostly I stayed away and made it on my own. My green hair was both a blessing and a curse. Anyone with any brains automatically steered clear. Anyone without them came at me with a vengeance. Unfortunately, half the population has less than average intelligence.

"JJ?" Green's voice… why was I hearing it? Wasn't he still in Central? "JJ? Are you there? Why did you call me? Is this important?"

"Oh! Uh, hi!" Apparently I'd called him because his voice was coming out of my phone and already against my ear. I'd blanked out again. _Time to improvise_. "Um, so, Hoodie finally lost it and jumped Sylvester's bones so he asked me to cover his patrol tonight. If I bring Racer can I go?"

"As long as someone's with you it's okay," Green decided. "I don't want you wandering around alone. I know you can take care of yourself, but I'd rather not let it come to that, okay? Contact me when you head out and when you get back. Remember: no killing."

"Gotcha Green!" I grinned. "You're awesome, you know that?" I hung up before he could answer.

Somehow, I was really happy. Nothing had changed really and my plans were the same, but still. I was really happy. Green Lantern is awesome. Of course, he had just inadvertently doomed himself to my calling him for permission all the time, but whatever. No biggie.

* * *

Jalal was so done with this shit. He just wasn't quite sure what to do about it. Hal noticed his dilemma and asked what was wrong.

"What's wrong?" Jalal repeated incredulously. "What's wrong? What's wrong is I can't figure out how to tell Roy, Leon and Jade to get over themselves, indulge in a little hate-sex and never throw their relationship angst at me again! I am not Oprah! I am not Dr. Phil! Why do people keep bringing me their problems!? I am not, have never been and will never be a relationship therapist! I am too young to deal with this much sexual tension and teenage angst! This is _bullshit~!_"

"Are you going to do something about it or just rant and curse?" Hal prompted. Jalal froze. He wore his scheming face. Hal considered regretting setting him loose on the teenage trio, then shrugged. Jalal was already headed out the door and it wasn't like Jalal would cause any permanent damage. "... I just jinxed it didn't I?" Hal asked the empty room.

* * *

Jalal froze, holding his mug halfway to his face and just… not moving.

"Is he breathing?" Roy asked, unsure if he should be amused or concerned.

Leon checked his pulse. "Seems normal," he reported.

"What's he staring at?" Jade asked. "Is he staring at me?" She moved across the room. Jalal's head followed the movement. "He's staring at me. What's going on now?"

"Should we poke him or will that make it worse?" Roy guessed, voice edging more towards amused now.

Leon poked the youngest boy there. Jalal unleashed a horrifyingly high pitched 'tween-aged girl scream' while slamming his coffee mug down on the table hard enough for it to slosh over the rim. He was still holding that horrible, high pitched note right up until a very startled (and slightly fluffy) Leon managed to get a hand over his mouth.

"What the actual fuck?!" the cat-man demanded.

"We broke him!" Roy shouted.

"Since when can guys even _make_ that noise?!" Jade freaked out, hands over her ears. "What the hell?!"

"_Ehrmygod!_ Uh- Jade- I- eherm. Uh, never mind," Jalal looked away awkwardly and clearly flustered. "It's nothing!" He tried to drink his coffee hurriedly, discovered it was empty and put it back down.

Jade gave the younger boy a flat look. "Jalal, whatever your damage is, you'd better explain quick before the mom brigade decides you need your medication checked again. Tell me why you were staring at me all weird like that."

He scowled at her. "I don't need my medication checked. I'm _on_ my meds. I was just caught off guard is all."

"Caught off guard?" she asked, raising an eyebrow daintily. On her Vietnamese features it appeared particularly graceful.

"Uh, yeah. Uh, um. I don't- what's the socially acceptable reaction to this situation anyway?" Jalal muttered to himself. "I mean- she should know. Totally. _Obviously_. Should they know? Am I supposed to tell her but not them? But that feels mean. And maybe sexist somehow. Except not. Is anti-misogyny a thing? I wonder-"

"Jalal, kid, just tell us," Roy interrupted him before he could get too lost in his head and forget what they were talking about. "Whatever it is, it's okay, alright?"

"Full consensus?" Jalal asked, looking away from Roy to Leon and Jade as though hoping he wouldn't get it. Leon shrugged his agreement and Jade nodded patiently. It wasn't the _most_ indicative of agreements but Jalal figured it was good enough. "Whiskers is pregnant."

They stared. Jalal started ranting.

"I mean – _baby_. Holy shit, right? I did _not_ know my advocating hate-sex would lead to this thing. Not that babies are things. It's just not a he or she yet. Babies aren't 'it's. People are not 'it's. I have a thing about that. Babies are little people. Well, person. Just one, I think. Hard to tell yet. Zygotes. She/he/not-it hasn't decided on a sex yet. And I don't like referring to him/her as a he-she because that sort of reinforced a gender binary and gender is socially created and it's really more like a spectrum in terms of what's acceptable which has largely been enforced by the Western society on the rest of the world because some cultures actually have third genders, which is fascinating, and-"

"Go back to the first sentence?" Leon asked weakly. "The one where you said- that thing about Jade?" Jade made a noise of what might have been agreement but came out more like she'd been punched and was trying not to cry out.

"She's pregnant," Jalal repeated. "With a baby. Because you guys had _unprotected_ hate sex. I mean _god_, guys. Really? How is it that hard to-"

Jade made another uninterpretable noise. This time it sounded like a wild animal's dying moan, like a noble lioness right before it kicked the bucket in the most pathetic way possible. Maybe being trampled to death by emus. Are emus African? Food for thought.

"Shit did I break her?" Jalal asked. "Hoodie I- Hoodie? Oh shit he's broken too."

Roy hadn't moved or spoken since the _first_ announcement of Jade's pregnancy. It was unclear if he was in shock or just trying to restrain his initial reaction. Probably shock.

"Sylvester, I think I broke them," Jalal realized as panic seeped into his voice. "What do I- _fuck!_"

Leon had just keeled over backwards in a dead faint.

* * *

Hal's communicator pinged red for urgent. He answered it immediately, seeing the caller ID. "Kiddo?"

"DAD WHAT DO I DO I THINK I BROKE THEM AND THEY'RE NOT SNAPPING OUT OF IT!" Hal nearly dropped the phone, not having expected the screaming.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

"I DID NOT PLAN FOR THIS!"

"Kiddo, calm down. Stop shouting and tell me what's wrong before I decide I need to head over there and see for myself. I'm on one of Saturn's moons right now and I don't want to head back unless it's really important, but I will if you need me in person. Now, what happened?"

"I tricked Whiskers and Sylvester into angry hate-sex and then arranged it so Hoodie would show up and maybe-sorta totally didn't but did trick them into a threesome because that just fixes everything and I just wanted them to stop angsting everywhere because angst is an ugly color and I get sick of looking at it all the time and it was practically _oozing_ everywhere and I was just so done with that shit! Whiskers was all lonely and hurt and Hoodie was self-recriminating like crazy and Sylvester was repressing which is just straight up unnatural for him! So maybe tricking your elder siblings/cousins/friends into a threesome is a moral grey area but oh well and now Whiskers is pregnant and I told them because they _asked_ and now they won't snap out of it! Hoodie won't react and Whiskers can't do anything but make dying emu-lioness-animal moans and stare into space with dead-cow eyes and I can't even make Sylvester wake up since he passed out! Tell me what to do!"

Hal stared at his COM link for a minute. "Call Iris. She's a girl. She can fix this."

"Right! On it!"

Jalal hung up.

Hal stared at his COM some more. He sighed. "Iris is going to kill me for that." Hal really didn't have any option but to sigh again. "Kids."

* * *

Leon was pale and muttering. Jade and Roy shared a glance. It was not normal to see Leon pale and muttering. He was half cat. He was never supposed to be so… unhinged.

"I-I can't," he stuttered out. "I- _baby_. There's no way- I can't- _I'm-_"

"Stop freaking out," Jade dismissed, hiding her insecurities as she usually did: so perfectly you had to actually know her to see through her mask. Much to her own chagrin, relief and disappointment, neither of the possible fathers of her child saw through her. Her mask remained. "Selina did a fine job raising you. You'll do fine. I basically raised Artemis until Dad stepped up. All it really takes is dedication. It'll turn out fine."

"That's not-" Leon started, hesitated and tried again. "I shouldn't-" Leonidas Alexander Kyle was not raised a coward. He took a deep breath and said what he meant. "I hope the kid isn't mine."

Roy hissed in a breath and his stomach churned. Jade closed her eyes for a moment in what could be mistaken for a slow blink, opening them without any cracks in her mask showing. Leon realized his mistake rather quickly.

"Not what I meant," he cut them off before they could say anything. He couldn't look them in the eyes as he uncoiled his tail and removed his hat, flicking his ears and shifting his weight as though ready to bolt. He wouldn't, but his instincts were being super wonky and he needed to do _something_ other than just stand there. Leon fisted his hands in his hair, pulling harshly. What he really needed to do was talk.

"Then what the hell is it supposed to mean?" Roy demanded, determined to be angry instead of hurt. He knew the thing with Leon and Jade were still new and fragile but he hadn't thought he genuinely wanted nothing to do with her or the baby.

"Urgh- no! Damnit, Roy- don't you see you're the better option?!" Leon demanded. "It should be you!"

Jade would not hold her tongue and saying nothing when, regardless of the father, this was _her_ baby. "And what gives you the right to decide that?!" she demanded. "My baby-"

"Should get to be human!" Leon shouted. There was a moment where the only sound was Leon's angry panting. "Your baby, the kid deserves to grow up human. Go to normal public school and have nice, normal friends without keeping secrets. Not have to worry about instincts and territory and impulses he can't control properly no matter what. Not look in the mirror and see some sort of fucking _animal_ staring back. Should never have to see someone's face when they realize you're _not_ human and go from normal to _scared of you_ when you _haven't done anything wrong_. Shouldn't be dehumanized and vilified and _demonized_ because of _me!_ Should never have to worry about any of this sort of shit. I can't do this to a kid. No one deserves that. My- your- our- _the_ kid shouldn't be cursed like this. _No_ kid should. I-I can't… I couldn't live with that."

Oh. That's what he meant.

* * *

Lian was born with a little fuzz of red hair, perfectly healthy.

Selina was ecstatic to have a grand-kitten. Bruce was terrified. Dinah was proud of Roy for stepping up even though she admitted she didn't really understand his relationship. Ollie was firmly disapproving right up until he met little Lian, at which point he melted into a puddle of goo and proceeded to buy her unnecessarily expensive gifts that she wouldn't appreciate until she was much older. Lawrence threatened both boys to within an inch of their lives and cried when he met his granddaughter. Jalal immediately dubbed her Simba. He kept singing Circle of Life very loudly every time he saw her for years.

So ultimately, everything worked out okay.


	26. Finding Real Family

JJ didn't usually _do_ holidays. Well, he sort of did. Things were easier to steal around the holidays so he participated in that sometimes. There were no circumstances under which JJ would say no to more food. He always needed more food. His ribs stuck out just a little too much for comfort, just like any normal street rat his age. The little guys always starved first out in Gotham and he didn't _like_ taking food from the others, even when they offered – even when they offered willingly and without him threatening them first. He didn't need help. Or at least he didn't want it.

But when Racer just up and scooped him into his arms without warning and didn't stop running until they reached his house in Central City and there was a Christmas tree and so much food JJ wanted to cry, he couldn't find it in him to leave. Just for that day, he decided, he would be weak and accept everything they would give him. Fwoosh and his wife – immediately named Persephone – were _wonderful_. And Racer just kept smiling at him and… he couldn't bear to leave just then. And Green gave him _hugs_. Hugs were fantastic!

JJ stiffened up for a second the first time he got hugged by Hal Jordan. And then he melted into it and practically attempted to fuse himself to the man's side. This strengthened Hal's resolve to hug the tiny boy as much and as often as he could since he clearly needed it. JJ didn't mind. Hugging Green wasn't the same as hugging Dickiebird or Racer. It wasn't better or anything it's just that… Green was bigger. His hugs felt like… well, JJ wasn't sure what a hug from an adult to a kid was _supposed_ to feel like and had no real frame of reference to compare, but this was wonderful and he never wanted to give it up. A hug from a child was different from a hug given to a child by an adult. The arms went all the way around and held and they were bigger and he was literally engulfed in warmth even as it rose in his chest. JJ didn't even allow himself to _think_ the word 'parental', instead of dancing around it cautiously. Hal kept JJ in his lap all through dinner, much to everyone else's silent amusement and JJ's unsuccessfully concealed joy.

Jay and Joan Garrick adored the shy little boy and Wally beamed with pride at being able to give his friend all of _Christmas_ as a present because he knew JJ would have spent it alone unless he'd showed up when he did. Barry and Iris were proud of their nephew (son) and adored the kid who saved him from Rudolph.

* * *

JJ got presents. Practical things. Things he needed that he would have trouble getting for himself. A warm winter jacket from Dickiebird with a fuzzy hood to help hide his hair as well as a high-quality set of nunchucks. A gigantic watertight tin of Christmas cookies and a military-esque flask full of cider from Agent A. Some hard to acquire tools from Bossy B. Instructions on how to learn the Navajo language from Hoodling. Cold hard cash from the Princess – not that that one was particularly helpful or difficult for him to acquire on his own. Extremely nutritious energy bars from Fwoosh that could feed him for _months_. A hat, scarf and mittens combo from Persephone that looked hand-knitted and warm enough to keep even the Gotham cold out. The next level of Calculus textbooks from Racer as well as a full _stack _of comic books. A large durable backpack with lots of pockets from Green to carry it all in. A sleeping bag and inflatable mat roll warm enough for him to sleep in the arctic if he ever needed to from Joan and Jay respectively.

JJ cried a little. He hid his face in Green's chest until he was done, though he was completely baffled as to why Green insisted on stroking his back and smoothing down his hair. It felt nice though, so he didn't mind.

* * *

"He's not a pedobear is he?" JJ asked urgently. "Because if he is-"

"No! No, Uncle Hal's not a pedobear," Wally reassured him quickly. "Heck no. Of course not. Why would you even _think_ that?" Wally couldn't tell if JJ looked confused or upset but it was probably a mixture of both.

"He's all… touchy-feely and, and, and he kissed my forehead earlier and it's – I don't know what to _do_ about it," JJ explained awkwardly. "It's _weird_."

Wally thought he might have been stabbed in the heart a little bit at the revelation that JJ honestly didn't understand affection directed towards him by an adult without assuming things about pedobears. It also made Wally want to stab the Joker and Harley Quinn in the heart for a dangerous moment there, but he held back. Heart stabbing wasn't helpful. He had to remember that.

"It's just because he loves you," Wally assured his friend (brother). "It's something adults _do_ when they love a kid, even if they're _not _pedobears. It's normal, a display of affection and all that."

"He just _met_ me," JJ argued petulantly. "Why the fuck would he _care?_"

"Language," Wally scolded automatically, internally cursing himself for agreeing to help clean up JJ's fowl mouth. He sounded ridiculous. Whoever heard of a superhero lecturing people on their language? Other than Superman. Superman was a giant overpowered blue boy-scout though, so he didn't get an opinion. "And he cares because you're adorable and loveable," he explained. "Nobody can resist your awkward and adorable charms."

"I'm not adorable or loveable," JJ denied flatly, frowning unhappily. "Awkward yes, but not those other things."

"Evidence to the contrary," Wally argued.

JJ knew he wasn't lovable or adorable. Nobody was capable of loving him. He was too much his father's son. If he couldn't get his own parents to love him… well, then he must really be a fuck-up, wasn't he? He didn't understand _what_ Green was up to, because if Wally said he wasn't a pedobear then he wasn't a pedobear, but JJ still wasn't going to fall for it - whatever it was. He wasn't going to get hurt by a trick (again).

* * *

After the Garrick's went home (old people, humph) everyone fell asleep on the couches watching TV. JJ was curled up like a green bean on in Hal's lap and being held close like a teddy bear. Wally's feet were in Hal's face and his head was in Barry's lap. Iris took pictures before falling asleep with dignity in the armchair, an arm reached out and fingers tangled in Wally's hair.

JJ was gone in the morning and so was all his stuff.

The news was playing a press release about the latest breakout in Gotham. The Joker and Harley Quinn were out again.

Next Christmas JJ refused to be kidnapped.

But he did show up every few weeks asking questions like "Do you ever use your hand on vibrate instead of a blender when making pancake mix?" and "I thought it was a news reporter's job to tell people what they don't know. Why won't you teach them rocket-science? It's pretty basic."

"Ssh, mom, you're okay," JJ promised, "Just, stop moving, and I can fix this."

"My fault," Harley croaked out. "I didn' get da joke."

"That's okay mom," JJ lied. It wasn't okay, never was. "You'll get it next time." He didn't want there to be a 'next time'. "I need you to let me put this cast on, okay? Stop moving."

"I didn' get it," she confessed brokenly, tears in her eyes as she gazed at her son. "Oh, Puddin', I didn' get it. 'M sorry."

"I'm sorry too, Mom," JJ agreed. "Now let me patch you up. You'll be fine." Eventually. "I'll get you some painkillers and-"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll do better," Harley promised. "Puddin'."

"Mom, I'm not him," JJ corrected gently. "I'm not him. I'm JJ. I'm your son. Your Cupcake."

"Puddin'."

"No, mom, please."

"I'm sorry."

"… I'm sorry too," JJ whispered. And he wasn't lying. "I'm so sorry. I love you, mom."

* * *

JJ sat on the roof. It wasn't a very large or inconspicuous roof, but he felt a little better for being there so he didn't want to move. Not even if someone called the cops about young super villains from Gotham climbing their neighbors' houses in Central City. Before he knew it, Green touched down on the roof next to him, walking over casually and taking a seat.

Neither said anything for a while.

"She picked him," JJ whispered. "She picked him over me. And I was surprised. I- I knew it was coming. She always picked him. I just- I guess I just thought… she would've killed me. She was goanna. She really would've killed me. I-I'm really worth- I'm-"

Hal snatched the child into his lap and held him close. "No, kiddo, my kiddo. You are worth _so much more_ than that stupid clown. I promise you, you're about a billion times better than he ever will be. I swear to you, you're loved. I swear."

He kept making promises. Kept telling JJ that he was loved. That he had value. That his mother's choice didn't mean anything.

JJ knew he wasn't lying. He still didn't believe him. He cried.

* * *

The youngest Green Lantern floated outside a window, looking in. It was a greenhouse. There were two women inside, one with her arms around the other, both looking quite happy about the situation. Jalal blinked back the tears that wanted to come. He wanted to leave- to run away and never look back, forget this ever happened. He didn't. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to cry or rage or break or just- _something_. He didn't. Jalal just kept floating, watching through the window.

Harley Quinn was kissing and being kissed by Poison Ivy. The Joker hadn't been seeing in association with Harley Quinn in years, but Jalal hadn't realized… she left him. He hadn't realized. She didn't love his father anymore. He could see the truth of it in her aura. And it hurt him.

Jalal took a deep breath and sank to the ground before pulling off his ring. He was wearing his raggedy green sweatshirt, a black shirt that read '_Stand Back, I'm About to Try Science!_' and ripped jeans with frayed hems. His feet were cold. He'd forgotten shoes and his socks needed darning. Jalal made a mental note to ask Alfred later. He loved those socks. They had warning signs for various weapons of mass destruction on them and were cozy. Shakily, Jalal stepped up to the greenhouse doors and knocked, loudly.

It was less than a minute before the door opened. "Yes?" Ivy asked. It took her a moment to recognize him, even with the green hair. He knew by the way her eyes widened. "JJ?"

"I go by Jalal now, actually," he corrected. "I was wondering if I could talk to my mother? There's something I want to discuss with her."

"I- yes, yes of course," she agreed. And for a moment, she was Auntie Pam, the Flower Lady, who had green skin to match his green hair under the beanie he'd been wearing and gave him an apple once when he was hungry and lost. The moment passed. "Come inside."

"Thank you."

* * *

"I figured you should know, had some sort of right," Jalal shrugged, "So I swung by. I earned myself a Power Ring. I'm a Green Lantern now. I took on an apprentice to fill the role of Bluejay since I can't be both. She'll really be something in a year or two. My mom's pregnant, twins, and-"

Harley's eyes flew wide. "I _am?!_"

"No," Jalal corrected slowly, eyes hardening. "No, you are not. You are not pregnant and you are not my mom. You have not been for _years_. You may be my mother, and I cannot change that, but I have a mom who loves me. And a dad and a pops too. I have left that broken farce you called a family behind when it rejected me."

Harley's face crumpled. "Cupcake-"

"No." he cut her off. He didn't want to hear her call him that anymore. Didn't need to know what it was she wanted to say. "I was there. When he broke both your legs, I wrestled you into casts. I fed you and healed you when you were too delirious on fantasies of him loving you to do it yourself. And yet you were ready to kill me in a heartbeat just because he asked you to. In all the years since you never once checked up on me. You simply stopped caring about me, if you ever did to begin with. I used to think you simply didn't know how to care properly but obviously, you do. You care, just not about me. And that's fine because I don't care about you either."

"Cupcake?" Harley asked, big baby blue eyes swelling with fat tears. "But sweetie-"

"You're not allowed to look at me like that," Jalal told her. "You're not allowed to look at me the way you looked at him. Like _I'm_ hurting _you_ because you refuse to let go of the delusion that I love you. He never did and I stopped a long time ago. You lost that chance." Harley tried to turn away but Jalal reached out and grabbed her shoulders. "Look at me, mother," he ordered. "Look me in the eye."

Harley did. "Your eyes aren't supposed to be blue," she realized.

"Things change. I've changed. You missed it." Jalal reported honestly. "I'm glad you weren't there. I wouldn't have had the courage then when I needed it."

"My JJ…" Harley whispered, but she wasn't talking to him. She was talking to the ghost of her baby, the one she had borne, the one she had raised, for a short time so long ago, the one she had even tried, and failed, to love as her own. She couldn't see her JJ in this man. He wasn't standing in front of her today. He was gone.

"I go by Jalal now," he corrected her. "I came here to tell you… that I have grown up and away from you. Beyond what you ever expected of me. What _I_ expected even. I'm… I'm a son, an uncle and a brother. A mentor, a partner, and a lover. I'm a hero. I have done things to be proud of. And that pride does not belong to you. It is mine and mine alone. I am glad for you, that you got away from him. I'm glad you found out what real love is. I'm happy for you." Jalal was silent for a moment, letting that sink in. "But you don't have the right to be happy for me. I don't hate you. I just don't care about you anymore."

Even as he spoke, Jalal knew he was lying. He would never completely succeed in cutting Harleen Quinzel out of his heart. She was and always would be his mother but that part of him which so constantly yearned for her to love him had died sometime between her attempt to kill him and his acceptance of his true family. He couldn't pin down a particular moment when it changed but it had. Jalal didn't need her approval anymore, didn't measure himself by her happiness. He still cared enough to be hurt that Pamela Isley meant enough to her to leave the Joker when he hadn't, but it was a distant sort of hurt and already fading.

Jalal turned to leave, getting to his feet. Harley did not reach out to him. She knew then that she didn't have the right and stared instead at her hands sadly. Jalal did not turn back. It wasn't until he reached the warehouse doors that he stopped.

"Miss Isley," he said. He wasn't sure how to finish that statement. Take care of her. I hope you destroy each other. You win. Good luck. Burn in hell. Congratulations. I never want to see either of you again. Is it okay to come back? He didn't know what he wanted to say, if he wanted to lie or what the truth might be if he wanted to say that instead.

She met his eyes. "I remember, you know," she told him. "That day when I gave you an apple. I did recognize you, but I let you think I didn't. It was the first time in years I had used my powers for anything other than destruction. You were wearing that adorable Wonder Woman beanie."

Jalal swallowed thickly. Somehow, it was difficult all of a sudden. "I remember."

"Thank you."

Jalal nodded. He couldn't stay any longer. Abruptly, and suddenly awkward he shoved on his power ring and flew home, away from these women who made him feel so strangely in ways he didn't want to.

* * *

"Hey," Jason greeted from the couch, "You okay?"

Jalal smiled, taking the extended hand and allowing himself to be yanked into Jason's lap, leaning into it and taking a deep breath through his nose. Jason always knew when something was wrong. A hand stroked down his spine while and an arm snaked around his waist.

"You want to talk about it?" Jason asked.

If he said no, Jason wouldn't ask. It was because of that that he was willing to explain. "I saw my mother today," Jalal admitted. "Did you know she was with Ivy now? She left him."

Jason tensed slightly at the mention of the Joker as he always did and pulled Jalal that much closer. "I know now," he admitted.

"It's just making me remember feelings I thought I'd forgotten. Questions with answers I know aren't really true. Hurts that I thought were healed." And Jalal loved that he could talk like this with Jason without being afraid, in any way.

"What kind of questions?" Jason asked. "And will knowing the answers make me need to bust some heads?" And Jalal loved that Jason always wanted to protect him, was so grateful for it.

"Why does she always choose him over me? How come the only time she really looks at me is when she's comparing me to him? What do I have to do to get someone to look at me that way? Could I have protected her better? Should I have? I-" and Jalal's voice broke, tears rushing out of him unexpectedly and uncontested. "I used to sit on the roof of my parents' house and just listen to them echo around in my head endlessly. I hated every second of it but I guess-"

He didn't finish. He knew he didn't have to. He'd offered up enough for Jason to understand.

Jason was quiet for a minute, thinking and allowing Jalal's tears to dry, still stroking his back. "You know, I've had two moms, and neither of them worked out either. The first one picked the comfort of a needle over being there for me and Shelia picked money over my life and got us _both_ killed." Jalal experienced the same moment of pure, crushing terror he always felt at the reminder of Jason's death. Part of him was still waiting for everything to be a hallucination and disappear out from under him. Jason kissed the nape of his neck in apology for the memory, knowing it hadn't been as bad for him as it had been for Jalal, despite the Y-shaped scar across his entire chest. "And I'm not going to say that that doesn't suck balls because it does. But I know I'm worth more than a brief high and, despite his faults, Bruce would pay whatever ransom the world could ask and not blink for a second. And I _know _you're worth more than the Joker. They all made the wrong choice. _She_ made the wrong choice."

Jalal kissed him. "Just what did I do to deserve you?" he wondered. They were kissing again before Jason got the chance to answer. That was okay though. He'd remind him later. They'd remind each other.


	27. Snippets

**Note: this entier chapter is nothing but drabble trash of snippets that don't fit with other snippets. so basically like the rest of this fic but more scitsophrenic. carry on. **

* * *

It is a solemn fact that the people who run the night-shift at just about every fast-food place in Gotham are completely accustomed to and unphased by random vigilantes and heroes appearing in their place of business in the smallest hours of the night and ordering food like regular citizens. Then again there's always a new guy.

"Can I take your picture?"

Bluejay looked up, smiling. "Only if you don't post it online or keep it out front. Then the villains can find it and then I couldn't have these fantastic fries. And you'd die. Which is obviously more important. So yes, but only if you promise you're not suicidally stupid."

"When you phrase it like that…"

"I know. It's not as cool when you can't brag about it."

"I can be tactful."

"JJ, you once heard Poison Ivy refer to those plants of hers as 'her babies' and immediately asked who the father was or if she, and I quote: 'reproduced asexually, like a komodo dragon?'."

"Your point?"

"You don't understand why calling a woman a komodo dragon is rude, so I don't think you really understand the idea of tact."

"Not my fault she's touchy."

"You're not helping your case here."

* * *

*****At the graves of the Flying Graysons*****

"They're still grey."

"Huh?"

"I- the lights, when you die they turn grey. And they fade. They last longer if the lights were brighter or bigger. They should be gone by now."

"What does that mean?"

JJ paused. "It means that they must have been fantastic people when they were alive. Well, that or super evil, but if they managed to squirt out a kid like you obviously they were good - no, great. Really super great."

* * *

"JJ? Shut up."

"Shutting up."

"JJ? Thanks."

"Thanked."

* * *

"You're the most graceful person I know," JJ insisted. "If this can be done, I need you to do it."

"Yeah, I got that," Leon agreed, "but why are there rockets on my hands too?"

"So you can balance."

"If you say so."

"Starting at bare minimum thrust capacity - .5%"

***BOOM***

"Fuck this."

* * *

"Please, Dick?" JJ whispered in his ear as he hugged him. "I- you're a fantastic big brother. Please?"

Dick hugged back the same way he always did.

JJ grinned, knowing that was all the confirmation he'd need. Dick had no reason to be jealous of Jason, and now he'd help JJ protect him properly.

* * *

"It's not that I'm no good at detecting people's feelings for me, it's that I can't. People's auras... okay, think of a beam of sunlight. You can see it shining through the trees when it lands on someone else, right? But when it's pointed at you, you can't see where it ends. You know it's there, you can tell, you can feel that it's touching you, but you can't see the shape of it. It's like it's invisible."

"...Can't you just read emotions like a normal person? Like through their actions and facial expressions and stuff?"

"...I'm not sure how. It's not a skill I ever developed."

"...I'm sorry."

"Me too," he replied immediately. "Me too."

* * *

Jalal walked into the living room, vaulted over the back of the couch and lay down.

"Please avoid abusing my furniture, Master Jalal," Alfred instructed with his usual and unending poise. "I find I replace it often enough without the damage of misuse heaped on top of the usual levels of mayhem and destruction in this household."

"Sorry Alfred," his voice answered from behind the couch, completely hidden since it was facing the TV on the wall over the mantle of the fireplace. "'Mma nap, kay?"

"Sleep well, Master Jalal," Alfred replied softly. Normally he would advocate napping in an actual bed and not in a common room area but Master Jalal got little enough sleep as it was and there was little hope he would still want to nap if he were moved so Alfred left it alone.

Master Jason walked in from the other direction. "Sup Alfred," he greeted.

"Good evening Master Jas-oh dear." Jason vaulted over the back of the couch and landed-

"GAHOW! DAMMIT!" / "OW! JALAL!"

"You weren't expecting me to be there were you? Well that's okay. I wasn't expecting you to randomly crush me either!" / "Why were you hiding behind the couch! You could've gotten crushed! What if Bruce had come in."

"I assure you, young masters," Alfred interrupted pointedly but politely, "that I have long since taught Master Bruce not to vault over the backs of couches. I trust that this lesson will no longer be necessary for the both of you?"

The two teenager's heads which had popped up over the back of the couch looked from Alfred to each other then back to Alfred. They both started apologizing at the same time.

* * *

"Don't make me Loomp your Oohmpas," JJ hissed darkly.

"...I'm not sure how, but I feel genuinely threatened right now."

* * *

JJ explained stubbornly, "It works for me. I can lend you the acid."

"I'm talking to Bats about restricting your access to dangerous chemicals."

"It won't work. I can just get them from Fwoosh. He's sufficiently irresponsible to give them if I ask and even if I just take them he probably won't notice for a few weeks at least."

"Damnit Uncle Barry," Wally muttered. It was only cool when he got to use his uncle's careless attitude to his advantage, not when his younger siblings pulled something reckless.

"You used to be irresponsible too," JJ complained, "when did you stop being fun?"

* * *

JJ tried to conceal his childish wonder at being completely surrounded by green things from all directions. Actual jungles were about a thousand times more breathtaking than concrete jungles. JJ was entranced. There were living things everywhere and the ground gave a little under his boots when he walked and the air tasted so clean when he wasn't breathing in smog like he was used to and he was definitely coming back here someday. Or somewhere like this. Because JJ may be a city kid through and through, but to deprive himself of having something this beautiful in his life would crush him now that he knew it existed.

Miss Martian picked up on his joy and wonder across the telepathic link and smiled to herself. She thought it was beautiful too, but wasn't as taken off guard as JJ had been, merely impressed. As endearing as the younger boy's fascination was however… 'Link established. Ready to go.'

* * *

JJ grinned down at the gap. "I could jump," he whispered, leaning forward over all of Gotham from the top of Wayne Tower, feeling the wind. It was cold, but he was warm and the night felt alive in his chest as he breathed in the smog at the city's heart.

"I would catch you," Dick replied seriously, not overly concerned about the potential suicidal nature of what JJ had just said. They both knew he wouldn't really jump. JJ knew better at this point. He hadn't always but by now he damn well did.

JJ looked at him. "You would, wouldn't you?" he realized. "Just like the Catcher in the Rye. You'd catch us all, if you could."

Something flickered through Dick's eyes, hidden behind the mask and his smile seemed slightly more fixed all of a sudden. "I know I can't," he admitted. "I know."

JJ saw his aura lean darker for a moment as ghosts passed before his brother's eyes, falling to the sound of broken trapeze wires and dreams that shattered like the crunch of too many bones. No, they couldn't save everyone and not everyone could be saved. "But you will always, always try," he shrugged, as though to try and take away from the magnitude of what he had just said. "And that will have to be enough for you, on the days when you fail. You try. And you care."

"So do you," Dick pointed out.

JJ didn't answer immediately. He wasn't sure if he should tell the truth, but not answering felt like lying. "I don't care, actually." JJ corrected, "Not about everyone. Not really. There's enough of a psychopath in me that I'm just not wired the same way you are. I only care about you. You and the rest. And you care about others. So I'll try for those others too. Because you ask it of me. And that will have to be good enough on my part. And maybe somewhere along the line I'll start caring the way you guys do too."

"You want to be good," Robin said it out loud, always having seen it in him. "You always have."

"I do," JJ agreed uneasily, never having admitted it out loud before but not taking it back all the same. "I want to be good. I just don't always know how."

"That's why you've got us."

"To catch me when I fall?"

"Exactly."

"I'll catch you back," JJ promised seriously. "But if a time ever come when it looks like I'm pulling you down with me, I'd rather just fall alone. You understand? I'll jump before I let you fall, any of you. Never fall for me. I'm not worth it. If I fall I want you to let go."

Robin frowned. "Bluejay, if the time ever comes, I'll jump with you."

"You shouldn't."

"But I will."

"...I shouldn't be grateful."

"But you are."

The Bluejay nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." The Robin smiled back.

* * *

"Dick, I know that this is hard for you to hear, but you're wrong," Rick told him, barely containing his anger enough to use his words and not just hit his brother until he understood.

"Of course I'm not," Dick spluttered out, affronted. "It is an older brother's job to look after his little brothers."

John rolled his eyes. He waved one hand dismissively. "Wrong," he bit out, still uneasy about using words where people could hear. "Stupid."

Dick frowned but wasn't willing to correct John when it took so much effort for him to speak. He never used his words without a purpose.

"All brother's look out for each other equally, got it?" Rick demanded. "So you protect us and we protect you the fuck back. Got it?"

The last Flying Grayson's face lit up with understanding and morphed into grateful acceptance. "Got it."

* * *

Cam did her rounds, checking each doorway, not entering a single room past the hallway but simply ensuring that everyone was where they should be, asleep and safe. It was an anxious habit she had developed accidentally, and despite knowing that she routinely woke up her more assassin-trained and spatially aware siblings no one ever mentioned it. No one commented on her need to reassure herself and marvel at the fact that she had a real family.

* * *

"Rick, no, you can't actually cut people's balls off," Conner told him.

"Why not?" he complained, not lowering his sword but looking away and sounding irritated. The thug whimpered. Apparently having an irritated vigilante with a sword pointed at his junk was a bit much for him. He was not having a good night.

"Because it's wrong," Conner explained. "You're just not supposed to."

Rick frowned. "But we kick people's teeth out all the time. Several of us have a collection. That's kind of the same thing."

"Well, yeah, we do but this is not even remotely the same thing, okay?" Conner insisted. "Just don't. Leave people's balls alone. No cutting off body parts as a general rule."

"... Is this part of the so-called morality bullshit thing?"

"... That's it from now on Jalal's not allowed to name anything."

"Good luck enforcing that."

"We've actually been trying for some time now, ever since the Cave of Badassery. We have not succeeded. I just don't understand how these things catch on so fast."

"Kid's got a gift."

* * *

There was an explosion. Jalal didn't immediately shout that he was okay. Everyone remained still for a moment, waiting. He still hadn't said anything.

"Wendy," Kaldur ordered. She was gone before he could finish the sentence, wanting to check on her little brother.

She saw he was still standing and sighed in relief. "He's still standing," she shouted back and heard the pounding of footsteps slow to a hurried patter. "Hey, Jalal, you okay?"

"Mh-mnh-mnhn-nho-mhnh," Jalal told him without opening his mouth or otherwise moving.

"Glue again?" she guessed.

The back of Jalal's head nodded.

"Can you breathe?"

Again with the nodding.

Robin was the first to arrive behind Wally, "What happened?" he asked, slightly winded by the sprint.

"Glue," Wally reassured him. "Watch the floor while you get him out. Speedsters and glue just don't mix. I'm not touching this one. I'll help next time."

"I get it," Jason shrugged. "Go hang with Big Bird."

"Don't tell me what to do, brat," Wally ordered affectionately and kissed his temple before moving on.

* * *

"Cass needs words," Jason said frankly. "Badly. It's sorta okay for her to understand us without them but only Jalal can understand her back and that's just not okay. How do we give Cass words?"

"I'll talk with Miss M," Dick offered. "She's a telepath. Maybe she can do something."

"That sounds workable," Jalal agreed. "I got nothing for that. Robots yes, genetics yes, chemistry yes, psychology yes, emergency medical treatment yes, communication… yeah that's a no."

"You are not expected to have all the answers for all of our problems, Jalal," Rick corrected firmly. "That would be unfair."

"I still want to have all the answers," he countered, pouting.

Jason moved closer and put an arm around his waist. "It's okay, Jayblue, we love you anyway."

"... Shut up Jaybird."

* * *

"... Dude."

"I know, I know. You'll kill me in my sleep."

"Oh no, no I wouldn't do that to you my friend. I'd kill you while you're awake. I'd-" he leaned closer and whispered in his ear. Conner paled and Calvin looked impressed the longer he continued to speak. It took a while for Jalal to finish threatening the guy. "With knitting needles. And it would be by far the most satisfying salad I would ever eat," he finished. "So. Your decision."

The man cried.

Jalal frowned. "I overdid it."

"What did you say to him?"

"You don't want to know," Conner told us. "I don't think I'll ever be able to look at knitted scarves the same way again."

* * *

"Oh! Oh! Be me! Be me!" JJ demanded eagerly. "Be me next!"

"Sure thing," Marvin agreed to transform again.

JJ slumped in disappointment. "How come girl me doesn't have any boobs?" he complained.

Aqualad promptly forgot how to breathe air for a moment there and managed to choke with his gills (at literally any other time, this would have been caught on video and posted on youtube). Superboy just sort of blinked, completely unsure how to react to that sort of statement. Robin began an internalized panic attack about his baby brother's sexual identity. Wally started teasing him. M'gann tried to comfort him.

"I'm sure if you were a girl and a little older your boobs would be fantastic," she assured him.

This did not make the situation any better.

* * *

"Roy, you will do this or so help me I'm telling Ollie why we don't have an Arrow Car anymore!" Dinah threatened.

"How was I supposed to know that Jalal would actually try and use the keys!" Roy defended angrily, "I thought he wanted to play with them! He was seven! What kind of seven-year-old tries to drive a car?!"

"The Jalal kind of seven-year-old!" Dinah argued, "Obviously!"

"Fine! Fine, I'll do it!"

* * *

Cam frowned in confusion and quirked her head at Leon. "Are you okay," she asked, taking his temperature with the back of her hand. "Are you sick or something?"

"What? No, get off," Leon protested, batting her hands away. "I'm fine."

"You didn't flirt with me when I walked into the room," Cam pointed out. "I'm concerned. That's not like you."

"Oh, uh, well," Leon was blushing and Cam considered gaping, "I kinda promised Roy I'd stop… you know, flirting and sleeping around."

"Good," Cam nodded patiently, still halfway suspicious, "But I've been telling you that for years so why…"

"He gets jealous," Leon admitted, "and a jealous Roy is not as much fun as it sounds. He gets all depressed after instead of possessive and I don't like it so I stopped."

Cam's eyes lit up. "You and Roy are a thing?" she demanded eagerly. Leon nodded. She squealed and glomped him. "I'm so happy! I've been shipping you silently from the sidelines for years!"

Leon clamped his hands over his ears. "I don't care! Just never make that noise again!Dammit woman!"

* * *

"Bluejay, Bluebird, what does it matter? The blue is the important part. Who cares what sort of bird you decide to be? That hardly matters."

"I thought you might be upset."

"Why? It's no big deal."

"But you gave me this name and now the press is changing it."

"You're still blue. That's what I care about. You're still Blue."

Harper hesitated. She knew him well enough by now to know when something tied back to the lights. "What's blue mean?" she asked.

Jalal smiled softly. It was a strange look on his face, prone to large outbursts and almost exaggerated levels of energy, but it suited the little sign he let out and the twinkle in his eyes. "It took me ages to figure it out myself. I struggled with the cool colors for the longest of times. I didn't understand them back then so I couldn't figure it out. But I understand now. I'll tell you. Red is anger. Orange is greed. Yellow is fear. Green is will. Indigo is compassion. Violet is love. Blue is my favorite. Blue is hope. Hope, Harper. Hope. It's the thing that I needed when I became Bluejay. It's what I gave to people as Bluejay. It's why I couldn't just let Bluejay die. Because Batman and Robin and the rest, they're symbols - of fear and vengeance and the night, of freedom and perseverance and joy… but Bluejay is hope. Bluebird is the same. You're hope. And you will carry that for me. Hope, Harper Row. Hope is the most important thing I can ever give anyone, and I ask that you bear that legacy."

Harper felt her breath catch. Subtly she swiped her cheeks to make sure she hadn't started crying or anything embarrassing like that. "You got it, Bossman."

He put the palm of his hand on the top of her head. "I know you do," he whispered to her. "I'm so proud of you."

* * *

**-Icicle Jr/Cameron POV- (2 years before start of canon)**

I was sleeping in a relatively nice bed for once, having scraped together enough rent for a pretty decent apartment considering it's location on the bad side of Gotham while my dad was currently in jail. It was rare for me to be able to crash in such a nice place. Granted, it wasn't actually 'nice' considering they let a fifteen-year-old stay here alone and had a faulty heating system (not that it bothered me) and it wasn't as shitty as I was used to so that was good. And with my dad in jail, for now, I could sleep easy, nothing to worry about. Cops wouldn't be after him (or by extension me). Neither would any crooks. Sure, I missed my dad sometimes but that didn't mean I wanted him around.

And then my phone just had to go and ring. I seriously considered ignoring it. It wasn't like I gave my number out to a lot of people though. I wasn't Leon. So the call was probably important. But I was really comfortable. But it was probably important. It was probably JJ. I picked up the phone. "Hello?" I asked, trying not to sound like I'd just woken up. "JJ?"

"Hey, Frozone? It's me," he said. "Listen, Ah know it's 4:30 but… c'n- can you come over? I jus'- it happened again. I didn' r-react well an'… c'n you jus'…?"

I already had one of my shoes on and was working on the other as soon as I heard his tone of voice. "I'm coming," I confirmed, not bothering with a jacket. I was in a t-shirt and sweats to sleep in which was good enough. I never felt the cold anyways. "Where are you? His usual hideout or-"

"Top 'f the diner," he cut me off. "Don' feel like bein' in na hideout right now." I knew what that meant. It meant he was as far away from his father and his goons as he could be. I paused halfway out the door, turned around, grabbed a first-aid kit, some blankets and a bag of freeze dried chicken wizzies and shoved it all into my backpack as quickly as I could before continuing out the door. I knew JJ well enough to know what he was really asking for.

It didn't take me long to get to the diner. It was, after all, still on the bad part of Gotham, but the outer edge. The kind of place actual decent people sometimes enter by accident and sometimes manage to leave with their wallets intact anyway. JJ and I had been coming here for years. Not to the diner (our dads would find out if we did). No. We just hung out on the roof. It was our hideout when we didn't want to be at our dads' hideouts. We never called those places home. This wasn't a home either. Just a place to crash if we were desperate. Which apparently JJ was at the moment.

He was leaning up against the exhaust vent with his arms loosely clasped around his knees, head tilted back against the metal. For a flicker of a second, I was scared he was dead. Then he turned towards me and grinned his crazy grin and I knew just how bad it was.

"You look like shit," I accused, dropping my backpack on the ground next to him.

"Yeah… well, normally I'd say 'you should see the other guy' but I'd rather you didn't." I was glad I hadn't met JJ's dad too.

I handed him the bag of freeze dried chicken wizzies before starting on his injuries. His face was pretty bashed in, but he'd had worse. I'd seen him with worse. "So how bad was it?"

He knew I wasn't talking about the beating. I was talking about what happened beforehand. "Don' 'member most 'f it," he admitted. "Not r'lly sure wha' set me off either. Came too an' all I could see was a bunch o' hands - no people, just hands, and blood. And this one guy tied to a table. His chest was-" JJ cut himself off. He wasn't actually eating the chicken wizzies and I could tell why. He was already choked with emotion, why would he even try with something solid like food?

"What happened?" I asked softly, pretending to focus on tapping JJ's fingers together since I didn't have a splint for the broken pinky.

"It said my name. In- in blood. I- knife." JJ whispered, terrified, looking every inch the child his age would have him pegged for. But kids like us… we never got the chance to be children.

"And you freaked out seeing that like any normal nine-year-old kid would," I surmised. His father's reaction to his fear was obvious and written all over his body in bruises, cuts and a few minor broken bones. But I knew there was no saying that. There would be no more talking about what had happened. JJ didn't need that. But he did need food and a half decent distraction. "Eat your chicken wizzies," I ordered. "That's your dinner for tonight, you know?"

"Thanks, Frozone," JJ smiled weakly, but opened the bag and dug in any way. Who knew when the last time he ate was.

"Yeah, well, how could I not come when my favorite baby psychopath calls? Us disappointments need to stick together, you know?" I was mostly teasing. Yeah, I was a psychopath. I could see some passerby on the street get eviscerated without blinking. But still… that didn't mean there weren't some people I cared about. Granted it was a short list. Dad was sorta on there. Jade was on and off, depending on her mood and I got that. But the little guys? The ones who were still too young for this shit? Kids like JJ and Apollo? They didn't deserve this. Apollo and his family just up and disappeared one day. I heard his mom got killed. He and Jade deserved better than that. Maybe we all did.

JJ himself wasn't even a psychopath, not most of the time anyway. His dad's DNA just got the better of him sometimes. And Apollo was still a sweet kid, for all he was far more grownup than any normal thirteen-year-old should have to be. I sat up against the wall next to JJ and put my arm around him, wrestling the blankets out of my backpack with the other hand before draping them over both of us. I turned both my hands to ice and rested one over the busted part of his face and the other on his overly swollen knee, trying to reduce the worst of the swelling for him. He nuzzled into my chest slightly.

"Ya' know, most guys 'ld be real happy rightabou' now," JJ joked, grinning up at me, careful not to dislodge my frozen hand.

"You're too young for me, kiddo," I scolded, grateful that he was feeling well enough to joke a bit now.

JJ shrugged. "'M nah inta girls an'way." He managed to sound like a petulant whining child. I knew he was a lot more nervous about saying that though. "'Ven 'f ah was, yer boobs're small."

I didn't take offense. I wasn't some sex-crazed animal like Leon so it wasn't a big deal to me. I didn't need big boobs. Besides, by all reports, they got in the way of everything and were heavy. I like being skinny better, even if I was only just on this side of scrawny. JJ's distracting insult having fallen flat however, I recognized just what it was that JJ had admitted. The kid was gay. Did I have a problem with that? Hell to the no. I still hung out with Leon all the time and he's willing to fuck anything with legs, regardless of what a person's got between them. His mom supported him. As for the Clown Family… I knew JJ couldn't take the risk to find out. If they didn't approve… JJ would probably be killed for it. And as brave as the kid was, he shouldn't have to handle that sort of thing alone. He needed someone in his corner, and if it had to be a psychopath with cryokinesis like me, then so be it.

You don't deserve this, JJ. This isn't right. But I said nothing because I understood better than anyone that there was no getting away. Not really.

I knew when JJ fell asleep because he stopped eating chicken wizzies. I stayed with him all night.

* * *

_***By now JJ changed his name to Jalal! To be done before this part can be included! ... I have yet to write this scene. Plus none of this is in chronological order so I'll just mention that that's a thing that happens at a time because of reasons! ;) _

* * *

**-Lois Lane POV-**

There was a knock on my door. I wasn't expecting anyone, but it wasn't unheard of for people to swing by unannounced. My friends usually called ahead, but people from work almost never did. I checked through the peephole at the door. It was a kid. What the heck? Ooh! Maybe he's selling scout cookies! I love scout cookies. They're a guilty pleasure of mine. I'm actually pretty sure they're everyone's guilty pleasure. I know they're bad for me, but I can't help it. I opened the door. Anything for cookies.

"Lois Lane?" the boy asked. His eyes were behind tinted glasses and his hair was a messy brown, stuffed under a cap. His clothes were pretty ratty and part of me wondered how he'd gotten past the front door of my apartment building in rags like that.

"Yes, that's me," I confirmed. He's not here to sell cookies. But he's just a kid. What does he want?

"Would you mind terribly if I told you a story?" he asked me, looking up at me. His puppy eyes were working on me even from behind those dark glasses of his.

"What kind of story?" I asked curiously. I'm a reporter. I make my living off of stories.

"The true kind," he promised. "People have probably heard it before. Just not like this. Not from our side."

"This sounds like my kind of story," I agreed, opening the door the rest of the way. "Come inside. I think I still have a few last scout cookies left, then we can get down to business."

"Ooh, cookies? I love cookies. Are they any good?"

"I'd like to think so. I bought them after all."

"Let's hope you have good taste then."

Apparently, I had excellent taste. The kid inhaled cookies faster than I thought was safe to do without running the risk of choking. I realized I still didn't have the kid's name.

"So, what's your name, kid?" I asked, "Do you mind if I get out my recorder?"

"Sure," the kid conceded around a mouthful of cookie before glancing at me wearily, cookie halfway crammed into his face. He bit in half and swallowed it down as I pulled out my recorder and started it. I always had at least one recorder with me. They were damn useful. "You don't carry a gun do you?" he asked me suspiciously. "You don't look the type, but just to be sure."

"No," I assured him. "I'm not armed and if I were I'd still promise not to shoot you. You have nothing to fear here."

"Yeah well, you should probably change that. You're too trusting," the boy scolded firmly. "Most people would shoot me." I couldn't help but think he was obviously much too young to be thinking like that. "But anyway, you wanted my name. Call me Jalal. That's what my friends call me."

"And your full name?" I prompted gently.

He hesitated again and I smiled encouragingly. He removed his glasses, revealing the brightest green eyes I'd ever seen. They almost looked like contacts. Then he removed his hat… and wig. Green hair. Jalal had green hair. And green eyes. And pale skin. He can't possibly be- but he looks like… "My full name is Jack Jalal Joker Junior and I'm sometimes called Laughing Jack," Jalal told me, tone carefully neutral. "Jack means 'he who supplants', Jellal means 'greatness' and the Joker part should be self-explanatory. My mother is Dr. Harleen Quinzel, better known as Harley Quinn and my father is the Joker. My name means that I'm meant to take over for him someday. And I have no say in the matter."

"Now about that story you wanted to tell me?" I asked, taking a half second to panic internally before squashing it down. I was still nervous, but not scared. This kid belonged to the Joker. But that didn't make them the same. The Joker would have just kidnapped me, not taken the time to knock on the door and visit. In comparison, Jalal was a regular angel, even if his table manners were rather poor and he ate all my scout cookies.

Jalal took a deep breath and started his story. "Originally, my mom raised me by herself out in Bludhaven. When I was five, I had my first breakdown. One second some kid was picking on me for having green hair and the next I was pukin' out my guts in the street, having bitten off a part of his ear. My mother was proud. She took me to see my father right after."

"Did you know who he was ahead of time?" I asked, trying to understand the larger picture.

"O'course," Jalal nodded. "Mom- my mother used to tell me stories all the time 'bout the great Mister J and how wonderful he was. So I watched the news growin' up."

Jalal cut himself off. In my career as a reporter, I was familiar with people like Jalal. They wanted to tell their story but weren't sure how. I understood. Back when I was a rookie I accidentally chased some witnesses away with my impatience. "And what did you think about what you saw?" I prompted gently.

Jalal didn't look me in the eyes but instead stared at his hands. "I was terrified," he confessed. "I just knew better than to show it. You show weakness and they'll eat you alive. Sometimes literally. Depends on who you're up against. The Joker thought that having a mini-me was a laugh. As long as I was strong enough, I would take over when he died. He taught me how to torture."

I think my heart skipped a beat then. "When you say-"

"I mean he put a knife in my hand, put me on his knee, and told me where to cut," Jalal cut me off, leveling his poison-green eyes at me steadily. He must have seen the lack of judgment in my eyes because he didn't stop himself. "If I showed weakness I got beat. If I cried I got beat. If I threw up I got beat."

"Were you beaten often?" I asked.

"Yes," Jalal agreed, elaborating without prompting, "mostly with fists, often by thugs and temporary bruisers 'cause the Joker was too busy. Sometimes belts or bats. Not at first though. I was too small so he worked his way up to that."

I hesitated. "If you don't mind my bluntness-"

"Not at all," Jalal disagreed, "More useful to say what you mean. The only thing I agree with my father on. Honesty. He wants chaos and pain and doesn't hide it. Lies, in general, piss him off so I learned to avoid them real fast. Being to the point got me out of his presence faster. Just a smart decision. So, what do you wanna ask?"

"How are you not a monster?" I wondered. "With a childhood like that - if you can call that a childhood - how is it that you aren't insane?"

"I am insane," he corrected me, "I just try not to be. And the short answer? I met Robin." The smile on Jalal's face was subtle but obviously heartfelt. I don't think he knew how happy those poison-green eyes looked when he smiled that way or he might not have judged himself so harshly. "He saved me. He and the others. I would do anything if it meant staying with him and the rest of my friends. Kill for them, die for them, I wouldn't even hesitate. But they don't want me to do any of that, so I just stay with them."

"Which friends are these?" I clarified. I was glad that there was something Jalal could talk about without looking so sad.

"Most people call them the sidekicks. The thing is, if they had less training it wouldn't be safe to hang around me, so I'm grateful that they do," Jalal grinned and it looked friendly instead of terrifying like I assumed it would. It just drove through the point that Jalal was not his father. "They're the ones who let me not be evil, or at least not as bad as I could have been."

"The sidekicks?" I asked eagerly, "What are their stories? Everyone has always wondered how they ended up working with real heroes when they themselves are so young."

"They all got different stories, and it's not really my place," Jalal shrugged, "but I'll say this. There are three types of heroes. The type who are simply so talented it would be a waste not to help people. The type who become talented and disciplined specifically so that they can help people. And the type of hero that beats up the bad guys so they don't become the bad guys themselves."

"Would you mind sharing some of your opinions on which superheroes fit into what categories?" I asked.

"Superman, Wonder Woman, they're the first type. They just came that strong and figured they'd do great things with that power. Black Canary, the Green Lanterns and the Flash, they made themselves strong so they could do good things. Batman and Red Arrow go in the last category. Stuff happened that made them driven, and they chose to use that drive to help others. All three types are admirable in their own way." Jalal added that last as an afterthought, but I got the sense he was biased towards the third type over the others.

"And you?" I asked.

"Oh I'm not a hero," Jalal shook his head. "I can't be. I inherited both of my parents' insanity and genetics. If I were to have a homicidal episode at a bad time, I could get people killed and would probably try and kill them myself. No. I can't do shit in the field. It's just too dangerous. I make myself useful in other ways."

"Such as?" I wondered.

For the first time since I met him, Jalal's face it up with pride in himself as he smiled. And it was a smile, not a grin, not a smirk, he was genuinely proud and pleased with his contribution. "I invent stuff!" he bragged enthusiastically, suddenly vibrating with happiness. "I helped Red Arrow come up with some of his specialized arrows. Kid Flash's goggles are from me, always have been. A bunch of Robin's gadgets are mine, Batman even adopted some of them because he said they were good! I gave Black Canary an expanding staff. She already had one but mine is better because it's lighter and much harder to dent and I added- uh, never mind. Secret things. You're a reporter. It's a secret. But you should know that it's really cool and badass."

I moved onto the next question, "Did you ever know anything about your father's upcoming plans or his current plans since he recently escaped from Arkham again?"

"I usually didn't, at least until the last minute. I definitely don't know now," Jalal shrugged helplessly. "If you want my guess though? Since we haven't already seen what he's up to he's going for something on a much larger scale this time around, maybe nationwide or something. He's insane. That makes him unpredictable. Anytime he gets out, something happens right after here in Gotham, like a sick celebration or something. The fact that we're still waiting means he's got a plan stored up. It means that he's got outside help this time around and more far-reaching plans."

"You're saying there's a supervillain team up going on and nobody knows about it?" I asked worriedly.

"Oh sure," he shrugged again, this time carelessly. "That sort of thing happens all the time, it just usually doesn't last very long at all." Jalal dismissed, "Bad guys tend to have trust issues with other bad guys, especially the crazies. Crazies get a bad rep, even in those circles. It's hard to control the leash of a mad dog, and the Joker is the craziest of them all, no contest."

"Should we be worried?" I ask partially out of self-interest and partially out of professional interest. The Joker could be a very real threat and if Jalal thought he was up to something that was worth being concerned about.

"Well personally, I'm always worried," Jalal explained. "There's almost no point though. What will come will come and worrying won't stop him. We just have to wait for him to get caught again."

I nodded in acceptance before taking the tangent he inadvertently offered to the next subject. "There have been some concerns about the security of Gotham's Arkham Asylum-"

"No, absolutely not," Jalal interrupted me firmly. "The reason you get so many break outs of the big bads is that the people at Arkham are normal humans, not capable of handling monsters like that. If you look at their actual recovery rates they're amazing. The big bads and max security people never get better because they don't want to. They like hurting people and don't want to stop. No one can force you to get sane against your will. That's not how it works. As an average patient, you'd rather go there than anywhere else. So long as you're not anywhere near the max security you're safe. Breakouts happen because we need all the supers on the outside capturing the baddies in the first place. Getting more supers inevitably means getting more baddies to oppose them. It's not a perfect system, but nothing is. It's as good as we can get it."

No one had ever explained it to me that way. Everyone criticized the way things were but nobody suggested solutions to the problem. I realized that I agreed with Jalal on this and quite frankly, he had the most accurate opinion on the matter that I'd heard yet.

"Do you have any hobbies?" I asked, changing the subject again.

"Huh, didn't see that one coming, but yeah. I invent things in my spare time. Usually, they go to heroes but sometimes I keep them."

"Like what?"

"I built Kid Flash's goggles, several of Red Arrow's custom arrows are mine. Robin's explosives are mostly mine. I build radios, uniforms, stuff like that. Batman helps me get supplies so I don't have to steal stuff, even for a good cause."

"So you're a thief?"

"Of course. If you're not a thief you starve. You think my parents were careful providers? O'course not. They were in jail half the time. They left me alone to fend for myself so I did. I was hungry and they had food. I was cold and they had clothes. I didn't think about it too much, I couldn't afford to. "

"Have you ever been caught or placed in juvenile detention?"

"Yes. I broke out pretty quick though. Like I said before, they're equipped to handle normal people, not crazies and supers, of which I count as both. I think I was about six the first time I got caught. The psychologist assigned to me committed suicide and I ran away right after that. I went back a few times, sometimes I let them catch me so I could get the free food. They never pinned anything big on me though."

"Did you ever do anything big?"

"You mean have I killed people? Yes. Not civilians if that makes you feel better, but yes. It was my father's thugs mostly and pretty much self-defense, but yeah. I've killed people."

I considered what Jalal was telling me. He was a murderer. And he wasn't ashamed of it. He was honest about it and hadn't tried to avoid the topic in any way. He'd seen the question coming as part of the interview and was ready for it. But he hadn't lied. "How old were you the first time you killed someone and why did you do it?"

It was not a pretty story. It was unclear whether the man had been planning on raping the boy or just whipping him with his belt, but Jalal hadn't wanted to find out. I recorded it dutifully, as was my job as a reporter, at the same time I decided to exclude it from the main article. I was a reporter and I was good at my job, but I knew where to the draw the line. I would respect Jalal's trust in me. I wouldn't betray that, even if he seemed to expect it.

"One last question," I requested, "off the record, if you like."

"Depends on what it is but sure," Jalal agreed, trying to stick his wig back on and failing miserably. I ended up straightening it for him and brushing his actual bangs out of his eyes so he could see properly and hide his real hair color.

"Why did you come to me in the first place?" I wondered. "You could have just kept your mouth shut."

"You mean why did I talk to a reporter or why did I pick you specifically?"

"Both," I replied honestly.

"I wanted to talk to a reporter because… I'm not the only one. Villains don't exactly worry about using protection too much, they figure they'll die tomorrow so why not live today? Lots of them have kids, probably more than I actually know about. And we don't get a lot of choices in life. There aren't exactly that many of us, but there are enough. Most of us end up knowing each other one way or another because we're the only ones who understand what it's like. I'm not saying we should all get clean slates for the shit we've done to stay alive, but I do want people to know and not to hate us for things we can't control. Hate us for our own mistakes, don't make us pay for our parents' decisions. As for why I chose you in particular… well… I knew that you'd be able to get my point across if no one else would. Also, I was kinda near the Daily Planet when the thought occurred to me. I just visited you at your apartment because waltzing into your office would probably get me arrested right off."

"Well, that's true."

* * *

-Alfred POV-

Messes were rare in the Wayne Mansion. Well, let me amend that statement to clarify that messes not caused by Master Bruce's nighttime dailies as the Batman was rare. Most usually messes were cased by the filth he dragged back on his costume, damaged equipment exploding and similar situations. Normal, mundane, civilian messes such as spilled food or messy clothes were rare. Most of the time. When Master JJ visited, it became rare for there not to be a mess, despite my best efforts.

Now that the fire extinguishing foam had been cleaned up I could see that the kitchen would either have to be repainted again or I should just cave and have it completely redone so that there were more tile and hardwood which would wash clean more easily than wallpaper and paint. Several pots would also need replacing. My best guess would be that Master JJ tried to cook something, lost track of what he was doing and introduced some volatile chemicals. Goodness knows where he keeps the stuff. I've tried taking dangerous things from him at the entrance to the Mansion, but he seems to produce them with his very presence or make them as he goes. Ah, the dangers of an errant genius.

Tracks of some sort of wheeled vehicle - either a mechanical robot or some form of rocket-propelled roller skates, I couldn't tell - zigzagged across the hallway and up part of one wall. Ah, and whatever it was obviously had rockets attached to it because there was also a trail of soot from the exhaust. And that broken vase would need to be replaced with something suitably dignified.

At least the shouting and various sounds of destruction have faded. The young Masters must have fallen asleep in the multimedia room.

Cautiously, I cracked the door open slowly. It was not at all uncommon for one of the young Masters to be curled up right in front of or even leaning against the door. Both Master JJ and Master Leon were highly paranoid and tended to sleep in such places intentionally so that it would be more difficult to sneak up on them. Fortunately, the doorway was clear this time.

The doorway was pretty much the only clear space in the entire room. Popcorn littered the landscape worse than tumbleweeds in a western movie.

Master Leon was stretched out across the back of the couch, several limbs hanging off at strange angles but retaining his balance easily even in his sleep. Master Roy seemed the only one upright, though his head was knocked back against Master Leon's stomach enough to suggest he too was asleep. Masters Dick and Wally were curled together in an odd tangle of limbs, both pressed up against Master Roy's side and under his arm. Master JJ was almost entirely curled up in a ball and fit quite neatly onto Master Roy's lap, back up against Master Dick's arm. Master Leon's arm trailed off the front of the couch to link fingers with Master Roy's spare hand.

Three heads shot up simultaneously with varying levels of wakefulness the instant I stopped on a spare piece of popcorn. Master Leon didn't open his eyes, though his ears twitched in my direction. He sneezed before relaxing again. Master Dick became fully alert before he too confirmed my identity and snuggled back into Master Wally's stomach, pulling the blankets up a little as he did. Master JJ actually armed himself with a fistful of popcorn as he jerked away from Master Roy's chest. When he realized there was no threat he shrugged, stuffed the popcorn in his mouth and chewed loudly as he went back to sleep. I stayed to ensure that he swallowed properly before passing out completely, not wanting him to choke. Master Wally twitched in his sleep and upturned what was left of the popcorn bowl.

Yes, messes were an increasingly common occurrence when Master JJ visited. But I have no complaints. The young Masters are always at their happiest during a sleepover, after all.


	28. Defiance

**Defiance.**

Jalal was alone when the idea hit him. This was probably a good thing because there was nobody nearby to ask him why he suddenly froze in thought or to then try and talk him out of it. Most everyone he knew would try to talk him out of it for one reason or another. Jalal knew that.

He also knew that his morals were… not utterly defective, but certainly not aligned in quite the same way most people thought they should be. He did not think of things in the same way as a civilian or his siblings or any of the adults he trusted. Jalal's mind worked in its own way and that was something he had long since made his peace with. He would never be 'sane' or 'good', not the way his siblings were. And so long as he could stay near them, he had been okay with that. As long as Jalal could be near his siblings, he didn't care how fucked in the head he was. He just needed to be near them. That was enough.

After Jason's death and resurrection, he had revised that policy. Now, so long as his family was alive and well, Jalal didn't care what happened to him. Pain and misery and suffering and even losing them - it wouldn't matter what happened to him so long as they were safe and happy out there somewhere. (Part of Jalal suspected this was an unhealthy way of thinking, but he didn't have the ability or inclination to care about his mental health in the first place so he didn't bother thinking about it much.) And so… this was worth the risk.

Jalal was willing to risk losing his family if it meant they would be safe. Because even if it could kill him to lose them, he would see them through.

* * *

The amount of times and reasons that Jalal had hacked the Batcomputer numbered far beyond any estimation any of his family would have made if asked. Granted, he was no longer the best hacker in the family - that was Tim, (Jalal was so proud!) but he didn't _need_ to be the best for this. He didn't need to be perfect or untraceable. He just needed to keep his interference hidden long enough.

Jack Napier was transferred over state lines by order of the Gotham DA, there was even a (forged) signature on the paperwork. A closed court was ordered by the governor of the nearest state that met Jalal's requirements. The jury was silently and subtly made aware of exactly _who_ they were trying and comprised of individuals who were… as impartial as it was possible to be with such a defendant. Jack Napier was kept highly drugged and unconscious the entire time under the orders of several different medical professionals, whichever was nearest and most appropriate at each junction. Jack Napier was transferred one final time and then put to death by injection within two days of being arrested.

Jalal leaned back from the computer screen, carefully covering his tracks and hiding his history as best he could. If Tim looked for more than a cursory glance, he would see. Dick and Bruce wouldn't notice unless they knew something was there to find. No one else would realize.

Unless he told them.

* * *

Jalal hacked the building his biological father was being held in easily. The Joker was currently isolated in the room in which he would die. No, the room in which he would be killed. The video surveillance was sending a feed directly to his screen. The PA system was easily manipulated so that Jalal could isolate the single room. Jalal booted up the program that would change his voice, having plenty of source material for the voice he wanted the Joker to hear.

Jalal paused, unsure of what to say for a moment. Then he remembered and certainly stepped in over his hesitation. This was not a decision he could take back, and not one he would allow himself to regret.

"You lose." Those were the first words out of his mouth. The first words he'd spoken to his father in years. They felt good.

Joker's head jerked, tilting to the side at an almost unhealthy angle. "At what?"

"Your own game," Jalal states simply. "You're going to die."

Jalal had expected the Joker's wild laughter at that. It still felt like a victory. His father didn't understand. "Don't you see though?" the man demanded, "That's exactly how I _win_."

"You win by getting me to kill you," Jalal knew. Not yet. "Is that right?"

"That's it exactly!"

"Then I suppose I've already lost," Jalal admitted. He'd lost a long, long time ago. He'd killed his first man at five years old after all. "But I'm okay with that."

"Are you now?"

"The Joker, the Clown Prince of Crime, chaos personified, psychopathic serial killer, maniac serial bomber, sadistic serial rapist and a general bad guy is about to be put to death by the court of law. Capital punishment. A simple injection. No fiery explosion. No blood. Nothing broken. Very little pain. Just the cogs of justice turning. Nothing special. Just another convict at the end of the day. The people killing you believe themselves to be executing a nobody by the name of Jack Napier. Isn't that _funny?_" Jalal asked.

The Joker considered himself to be the master of mind games. He considered his madness to be the greatest thing to ever happen to him. He had taught Jalal the art of psychological torture while seating his son on his lap, wrapping him in thin, pale arms as though in preparation to crush him with his unnatural strength. He used his words to inflict more pain than anything else at his disposal.

Jalal had learned from _the_ master. He knew what he was doing, what he was saying. Joker lived for chaos. The maniac believed that if he could force the Batman to kill, he'd be creating his own replacement - that he would _win_. Joker wanted to go out with a bang, to have a legacy, to be feared and cursed even in death by a vast audience in the greatest show of his life. He wanted to be Joker, forevermore. Disappearing quietly without fanfare, sentenced under the name of the man he may have once been (not even Jalal could tell if the Joker remembered being human anymore) was the very antithesis of what he lived for.

The Joker, for the first time, did not laugh when someone called something funny.

"And another thing," Jalal continued, flicking off his voice modifier, "The Batman has no idea you're here. He thinks you're still safe in Arkham, far, far away from any state that still has the death penalty in a nice padded cell and straightjacket. Your death will have nothing to do with the Batman. My name is Jack Jalal Joker Junior. Jack means 'he who supplants' and Jalal means 'greatness'. The other two bits stand for themselves, I think. I think you ought to remember me, though it's been a while. After all, _I_ am your successor. And I am killing you in the name of Law and Order. _I_ am your legacy. A man who _can_ kill, but can also choose _not to_; capable of making that calm, rational, logical, _sane_ choice. This is your final show. You have no audience."

The Joker didn't laugh. He didn't speak. He didn't smile. He lost.

"Even if I lose, even if me killing you means that I lose, I'm okay with that. I accept that responsibility. Because my _team_ wins. Where there is a winner, there must be a loser." Jalal smirked. "You once asked him, 'what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?' I finally have an answer for you: the object is destroyed. And the unstoppable force keeps moving without so much as a hiccup in its stride." He let that sink in for a moment. "Enjoy dying, father. And enjoy the knowledge, that for all the death and destruction and pain you have caused, your death will mean nothing to me, your killer. Goodbye. I do hope that it is painless. After all, I believe that would be worse for you."

* * *

"Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"You know I love you right?" Jalal asked seriously. "I'm not good at emotions, but you do know that, don't you?"

"Of course," Dick promised. "Now tell me what's wrong." He wasn't an idiot after all. Jalal wouldn't be saying this without a reason, and even then he shouldn't sound afraid when he said it.

Jalal ignored the question. "And the others, they know too, right? All of them? Because I do, I love each and every one of them."

"Of course we know," Dick soothed, hugging his little brother. "We love you too."

"I'd die for you," Jalal promised stubbornly, shaking. "I'd do anything. I love you all so much. It _scares_ me sometimes how much I love you. I'd do anything."

"Jalal, c'mon, what's wrong Wings?" Dick whispered, refusing to let go as his first brother buried his face in his shoulder.

"I love you, I love you, I love you." And Jalal's voice, heavy with tears, terrified Dick for reasons he couldn't name.

"I know. Shh, shh, It's okay, I know. I love you too little brother. But Jalal, what is _wrong?_" he insisted. Because something was definitely wrong. So wrong. Obviously wrong. His brother was _crying_ and _scared_ and _this felt like saying goodbye_ and that was _not okay_. There were things that Dick would not accept, not while he had breath in his body to stop them. Saying goodbye to his family was on that list. "What's wrong?"

"I need you to do something for me," Jalal's voice whispered, muffled by Dick's shirt.

"Anything, Wings," Dick promised. "For you, anything."

"Make sure they know I love them."

Dick felt a prick in his neck that he hadn't been expecting. The last thing he saw before passing out was Jalal's teary and pained expression.

Jalal didn't let his brother's body hit the ground. Gently, he eased Dick onto his bed, adjusting the blankets to cover the fact that he was fully dressed. He couldn't resist needlessly fluffing the pillow under Dick's head before he slid off his power ring to place it gently in Dick's loosely clasped hands. Jalal surveyed the scene in front of him before he took a deep breath and turned away. He made as though to leave, getting as far as the door before he stopped and turned around, pulled right back to his elder brother's bedside as though by magnetic force.

"Oh god I love you, brother," he promised in a whisper before kissing Dick's forehead. "That's why I'm doing this. And that's why it hurts so much. I- look after them for me."

After that, he wiped his own tears and left, turning the light off and closing the door on his way out. Dick would guard the family for him, heavy burden though it may be.

* * *

"Commissioner Gordon?" a voice behind him called. "Commissioner? I'm sorry to take away from time spent with your family, but I have something that really needs your attention, sir."

Jim turned away from his conversation with his daughter (it was a father-daughter brunch, Jim made a point to spend time with each of his kids at least once a week just to check in.) to turn down whoever was addressing him. The words he originally intended were not the words that came out of his mouth. He… hadn't seen JJ since the day the Batman had rescued him from his parents best attempts at filicide. The kid looked good, really. He'd been working out, cut his hair regularly, eaten properly, shot up like a weed. Most importantly, his eyes were blue now, not the sickly radioactive green they used to be. But it was definitely him. Jim had known he was alive - the Batman saw fit to inform the entire GPD to set their worries at rest, promising that he'd be kept out of trouble from now on - but not where he was or what he was up to. (Jim _had_ noticed how quickly the Bluejay appeared after Laughing Jack disappeared. He'd never voiced those suspicions.) (He also made the connection between the death of the second Robin and Laughing Jack's brief reappearance. He'd never had the heart to blame him for what happened to his daughter any more than Barbara had.)

"Commissioner?" JJ prompted again.

"Right, JJ," Jim glanced at his daughter, who was staring at the teenager incredulously, and then back to JJ. "This isn't a great time."

"I do apologize, but you see, it's very important," he insisted. "And I'd prefer that you hear about it from me."

"What happened?" Jim asked, sharpening and going into Commissioner mode. JJ may be insane, but the kid's heart had always been in the right place. When he wasn't Laughing Jack that is.

"I've done something Uncle B wouldn't really approve of. I'm here to turn myself in," JJ began, and Jim's heart sank. "You see… I've killed the Joker. He's dead. Completely. It was all very premeditated and everything. I'd like to make a full confession. After that... it doesn't matter what happens to me."

Barbara gasped. "Oh no."

JJ held out his wrists. "I have the right to remain silent. Anything I say can and will be held against me in the court of law. I have the right to an attorney. If I cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for me. I do understand these rights." He smiled gently, as though trying to soften a blow, "Take me away officer."

Jim felt the world turn on its axis and go careening sideways.

As soon as she was out of earshot Babs had contacted the entirety of the Batfamily, the Justice League, and Young Justice. She was using emergency protocols that she had never before anticipated needing for anything short of alien invasion. Barbara Gordon, previously Batgirl and current Oracle of the Justice League took a deep breath, staving off the panic she felt as she began the call which would almost undoubtedly cause one of the biggest shitstorms in the history of the League.

"This is Oracle to all points, _everywhere_. Bluej- Green La- I mean, Jack Jalal Joker Junior has just turned himself into Gotham Police Department custody with the intent to make a full confession for the crime of killing the Joker in cold blood."

Oracle immediately got so many responses - most of them at high volume - that not even she could make sense of them. Babs squeezed her eyes shut, feeling hot tears squeeze out anyway. Stupid little brothers.

* * *

"Why?" the Batman asked.

"Because this is a burden I can bear. Because I've never killed anyone for a good reason before. Because it was the only way to make him stay gone. And because the family is safe now. I lost Jason once. I _nearly_ lost Damian. Now they're safe."

"You never planned to get away with it."

"Never," Jalal confirmed. "I would have asked for permission, but you would have told me no. Even if I asked someone who was willing to kill him themselves, I would have been told no. Because they wanted to spare _me_ pain. Because they believed that, for me to kill him, I would even slightly feel the guilt and self-inflicted pain of killing one's own father. I don't feel that at all. I'm just glad my family is safe. I'm not even proud or smug or anything, just relieved. And happy."

"A man is dead because of your actions."

"I killed him," Jalal nodded. "That was my intention from the beginning. It wasn't a mistake. It wasn't a lapse of judgment. I decided, in cold blood, to end that man's life. It was the first premeditated and intentional kill I have made in my life. I cannot take it back and I refuse to regret it. This is perhaps the first time I have ever killed without remorse or sorrow. I'm not proud. But I am happy, really I am. They're safe. My family is safe. You're all safe. I- it's worth it. I can- as long as you're all safe, I can take it. It's okay. It's okay. You can say it."

"Say what?"

"What you came here to say." Jalal took several rapid breaths which were probably intended to help steady him and had no effect. "I'm not allowed back."

Bruce's eyes widened under the mask. "We're your family. You are always welcome."

* * *

Jalal took his first few steps out of the building, still rubbing his wrists. "Thanks, Commissh!" he waved over his shoulder, turning forward just in time to be impacted by a black and blue blur.

Tears soaked Jalal's shoulder instantly, having been on Dick's face before Jalal even made it out of the building. "You stupid, stupid little brother," he hissed. "I love you, you idiot. I love you."

And then there were more arms around him. Jason and Roy on either side saying things. Hands on his shoulders, his dad and pa, and mum. The rest of his brothers and sisters and cousins. Aunts and uncles. The Team. Everyone.

"You don't hate me?"

"How can someone so smart, be so _stupid?_"


End file.
